Back to The East
by German Jerky
Summary: Roy gets promoted after Bradley's death and circumstances push the thin line of fraternization to the limit between Roy and Hawkeye. Roy goes head to head with Hakuro in a campaign for the next Fuhrer of Amestris.
1. The Promotion

**Hello readers. I've recently started writing again, and I thought it was time to update this story, which has been collecting dust in the corner of my room. **_**Back to The East**_** takes place right after the end of the series. I hate how the real story continues, so I decided to change the ending. I'd tell more, but it will be explained as you read. So… I hope you enjoy. Reviews would be wonderful. Muchos gracias.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, or any of its characters.**

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**Back To The East**

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**Chapter One: The Promotion**

The polished black boots echoed dominantly in the quiet building, no trace of a limp found in the persistent click of his heels. For the first time in almost a year, he was back at Central Headquarters. The ten months he had spent in recuperation with his faithful Lieutenant Hawkeye had been long and hard, but had paid off. He was still slightly self-conscious about his eye—and the fact that there was no patch present.

A long, ragged sight escaped him as he caught sight of the familiar office coming up. The man's handsome features shifted slightly, tightening into the emotionless stare that he used whenever meeting a higher-up.

Footsteps slowed, and a gloved hand rose to grasp the handle. Turning it, muscles tensed as he leaned forward, pressing inward. Easily, it opened, and as he stepped in, he was greeted with the sight of familiar faces. Before they could say hello, a small white and black dog tackled him.

When finally Hayate was satisfied with licking Roy, the man straightened, and found each of his staff members on their feet, and in full salute. The emotionless look dissipated, and lips parted to speak. Then, however, Havoc spoke up.

"Chief, the Generals want to speak with you."

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In all truth, the man couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd actually zoned out for a few moments. It was only now that he dropped back in on the conversation.

"…and after we found out what Fuhrer Bradley was and once we spoke with the government council, we've agreed that you'll be promoted to General for serving your country yet again. It was quite a shock to find out, but the evidence is clearly there. Your promotion will be in eight days from today, and it will be held at the Eastern Headquarters. Be sure to pack your bags. Dismissed."

With a sharp, but numbed salute, the man turned on his heel, and slid out of the room. Thoughts seem to whirl a mile a minute as his feet unconsciously lead him back towards his staff's office. He hadn't expected something like this at all. It was his first day back, and already…

He was surprised to find himself in the staff's office so soon. The faces staring at him drew him to reality, and he suddenly realized they expected an explanation. Broad chest rose as dark eyes slid to each member, lingering slightly on the woman in the corner. He smiled slightly when he closed the door before he spoke up, voice low and gruff.

"I've just been told I'm being promoted to General. They're having the ceremony at Eastern Headquarters. You can come if you want to."

And that was that.

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It was quite simple to understand, really. After Mustang's agreed promotion, the other Generals decided to look into the stacks of unfiled paperwork of the higher-ranked enlisted soldiers. Then, they spent the next day calling officers and asking for evaluations. In fact, Roy himself was drawn into the rush.

Now that the threat of Bradley was gone, it meant that Roy no longer had to abide by his lazy alibi, and could finally get back to work. Still, that didn't mean he enjoyed it any more than he ever had. Even so, he was determined to get it done and over with. So, he spent the rest of the day isolated from the others in the neighboring office, writing hastily on each and every form, in attempt to get it done.

At long last, and to his surprise that it was only a little after lunch, he had finished. He took the forms himself to the turn-in desk, and retreated back to his staff's office. By the end of the day, he, along with every other officer or enlisted soldier in Central Headquarters, received a train ticket and a notice of approval for their absence.

His staff was surprised to find their own tickets, and perhaps it was with silent admiration that they realized Brigadier General Mustang had thrown in a good word to the higher-ups about them. And, with his consent, they were all being promoted exactly one rank. Even so, perhaps the thing that made his day was when all five of them signed the dotted line, and agreed to go one step further with him on his journey to the top.

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Despite his being the Flame Alchemist, and even his dislike towards wet rain, it did nothing to help his hard-headedness about the weather. The pitter-patter of rain echoed, hitting the cobblestone streets near the train station as he strode forward. He had to admit that taking a shower the morning they left sounded appealing, but now… He sighed.

Damp bangs brushed his eyes as he lightly hurled his bag into the luggage car. The cold, December breeze made him tense beneath the military jacket and uniform. He hated the cold, especially when he was wet. Drawing the black coat closer to him, he turned from the men that were loading luggage onto the train.

Heels clicked lightly as he made his way towards the car number. There were thirteen cars, and the number of soldiers coming, he knew, was two hundred and forty exactly. Each car had ten compartments, five on either side, and with his calculations, he was sure that he would be sharing his with someone else. That was, of course, considering that the thirteenth car was for luggage and supplies only.

His thoughts had picked up so rapidly that he hadn't realized he was already in his designated car, moving down the isle to the correct compartment. Footsteps slowed, and a gloved hand slid from the thick coat to the door, pulling it open. He was, however, met with a familiar face.

His first response was confusion. It was against regulations for two soldiers of the opposite sex to room together in the barracks, but despite that, she was here… Didn't they know it was a whole day's ride, and that they might end up sleeping in the same compartment if the train was delayed? Were they really willing to take that chance? No… Maybe it was a mistake, and he'd read his ticket wrong.

"There are an odd number of female soldiers in our battalion, sir. Compartments ran short, and to keep brigades separated, they keep them in groups. I believe _they_ thought that _you_ were the one who would be able to handle sharing a compartment with a female for the evening, sir…"

Obsidian locked onto amber, and he was silent for a few moments as he gazed at her, before he gave a huff. That was right. There were an odd number of females in their battalion. Quietly, he stepped in, and slid the door shut. Collapsing onto the seat opposite Hawkeye, his gaze moved straight to the window. The others better have made it in time… The main conductor called out a five minute warning. It seemed to bring others to reality, and many of the younger soldiers that had been loitering outside the train began bustling towards it.

"How was your morning, sir?"

His gaze flickered back to her for a moment, before returning to the window, his eyes narrowing softly.

"Cold and wet. If I'd have known—" He was cut off by their door opening, and as he turned, found the other four members of his staff peaking in. Their sudden greetings were answered by Hawkeye's calm façade, but somewhere, somehow…he could see the irritation. Roy said nothing. Then, finally, they left.

A sigh escaped her, following the silence.

"They're just excited about the promotion, sir."

He said nothing. Then, hesitantly, he shifted. Words were quiet, but they could still be heard.

"So am I."

With a sharp whistle, the gears groaned and began to turn, and a soft lurch announced the start of a long ride back to The East.

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**And there you have it. Chapter one is complete. Again, reviews would be great. I apologize for any misspells or typos. It's been a while, you know. The next chapter will come this time next week, for sure. Lots of love, people. Until next time.**


	2. The Train Ride

**Hello again. I'd like to thank the few people who reviewed the first chapter. Granted, I would have liked a few more, but I suppose it will do for now. Anyways. I'd really appreciate more reviews. I crave them. Seriously.**

**So everyone knows, this is based on…both the anime and the manga, I suppose. I haven't read the manga, but I know some things that occur in it. However, this story is largely based on the anime. Sorry for any confusion.**

**Also, I apologize if there are any typos or misspells. ^^;**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, or any of it's characters.**

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**Back to The East**

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**Chapter Two: The Train Ride**

Despite the fact that the higher-ups had organized the Central-promotion group flawlessly, there was one thing they had forgotten to prepare for: weather.

The seasons in Amestris were mostly mild. They came and went as the months passed, all except for the far North. On occasion, when weather was bad in the North, towns and cities south were caught in storms. If that weren't enough, the prevailing winds that flowed year-round through Amestris pushed them southeast, which was exactly where they were headed.

Thanks to the unfortunate elements, every soldier riding the train was notified of the conditions, and the predicted outcome of them. Instead of arriving at East Headquarters late that night, they were told that the train would have to slow down, in case of ice, and that they would arrive the next day, sometime during the late morning or early afternoon.

By the late evening, everyone seemed to realize just how serious the weather was. It was apparent that they would hit a bad storm even before the conductor came over the intercom again. The staff of the train went to collect the hundreds of blankets in the back car, and began at the second to last car. Two blankets were given in each compartment, as well as a short set of instructions on how to switch the seats into beds.

Roy decided to pay a visit to his staff, ensuring that they were comfortable. Afterwards, he returned to his compartment, finding that the woman with blankets had already passed by, as well as the lady with the trolley of sandwiches.

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The bread, which seemed perfectly fine before he'd taken a bite of it, tasted oddly stale. It was dry…too dry. He had to swallow with difficulty. He placed the sandwich back into the bag, along with everything else he'd taken out. After having eaten the same thing for lunch, he wasn't very hungry. The single bite would last him through the night, anyway.

"You should eat, sir."

Her voice drew his attention, and dark eyes shifted towards her, brows furrowing lightly.

"I'm not hungry."

"Of course not, sir."

He frowned, and sighed. Eyes rolled slightly, and he crossed his arms, before turning to face her.

"What's that supposed to mean, Lieutenant?"

Roy's face softened lightly when he saw a hidden smile gently tug at her lips, and he found himself watching the way they upturned slightly, puckering just a bit, as if she was amused by him… Then, they parted, and began moving, but for some reason, he couldn't hear. He found himself transfixed. All of a sudden, sound returned, and he blinked a few times, gaze rising to meet hers.

"…sir?"

He cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed.

"Sorry, Lieutenant… I think we should pull the beds out."

She watched him carefully, before nodding slowly.

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The remains of dinner had already been taken care of. After Roy helped Riza with switching the seats into beds, he went to check on the weather conditions with the conductor. As far as he could tell, it would only get colder, and there would be ice. With that news, he returned to tell Havoc and others, before returning to his own compartment.

Her hair was down. It seemed that it had been far too long since he had seen it like that. It made him recall the months he had spent within her care, and the side of her that he had finally had the chance to see. Even as his thoughts passed, he didn't realize that he was still standing in the doorway of the compartment, gazing silently at the woman.

She was resting comfortably in the corner of her side of the compartment, a book in hand. Her uniform jacket was off, and he was able to view the softly toned outlines of the muscles in her upper body once again. Ah, how he had missed seeing her like this… Of course, he would never admit that out loud.

He may have stood there far longer than he realized. Still, it was by chance that her words registered. If his gaze hadn't have traveled upwards towards her lips, he wouldn't have seen them moving. Then, once again, he came back.

"…are you alright sir?"

Instantly, he jerked out of his stupor, and stepped forward, sliding the compartment door shut. Fingertips lingered on the lock, before he thought otherwise. He moved to his seat, and sat down wearily on the bed, eyeing her from across the compartment.

He kicked off his boots, and slid off his uniform jacket, hanging it on the coat rack on the door, next to hers. White oxford was pulled from his pants, and he loosened his belt. He shifted the pillow at the front of the bed, which had been held in the overheard compartment. Unfolding the blanket, he pulled it over him as he stretched out on the bed, sighing softly. He leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, glad to relax. And then…

"Did you brush your teeth, sir?"

Eyes snapped open, and he stared at the ceiling. Then, he frowned. Grumbling at the nostalgic reminder of the months he had spent with her, he swiftly pulled the blanket off, rose to his feet, grabbed his carry on, and stomped out of the compartment to the bathroom at the end of the train car. He didn't even notice the amused look on her face.

When Roy had come back, he was calmer than he had been. She chuckled quietly when he shut the door, and he couldn't help but smirk softly. He loved hearing the sound of her laughter. He had become accustomed to the sound of it while in her care. He sat back down on his bed, and then stretched out once more. Pulling the blanket over himself, he rolled onto his side, back facing her. His eyes remained open for a while, his senses focusing on the steady sound of her breathing. Slowly, he felt himself relax…

Eyes slid warily closed as the day's travel fell upon him, and before he realized it, he had fallen into oblivion. He didn't even hear her mutter the soft, "Goodnight Roy."

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She sighed softly, setting the book down on the floor. Her amber gaze slowly moved on the sleeping man, and she rose quietly. Moving forward, she peaked over his shoulder, making sure he was asleep. Knowing that he was going to go to bed earlier, she had already gotten ready for bed before he had.

Riza's eyes moved towards the door, and her gaze narrowed softly. She leaned forward and locked it quietly. No more chances… Not since that night, at the Fuhrer's mansion.

Her jaw tensed slightly, before she flipped the light switch. The dark window revealed no light, so she felt her way back onto her bed, unfolding the blanket and pulling it over herself. Sighing softly, she closed her eyes, concentrating on Roy's slow breathing… Then, almost a quickly as Roy had fallen asleep, she found herself drifting off.

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**And there you have it, folks. Once again, I'd like to thank the people who reviewed the first chapter. Constructive criticism is always wanted.**

**I'm actually going to set a review limit for new chapters. I would like ****FOUR**** more reviews before I update the next chapter. So, the total numbers of reviews should be up to seven. Any more than that would be awesome.**

**Thanks again. **

**-Bryan M.**


	3. The Hotel

**Thank you all so much for the reviews. Special thanks to '' for catching my mistake. I really appreciate it. **

**Anyway, as promised, this is the third chapter to Back to The East. I hope you enjoy. There's a bit more comedy in this chapter.**

**Btw's, I finally got my website up. I'm not finished with it yet, but it's getting there. Check out my profile if you're interested.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, or any of its characters.**

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**Back to The East**

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**Chapter Three: The Hotel**

The sharp whistle that pierced the air made him wince lightly. Crossed arms tightened slightly as the train came to a slow halt, before it jerked back with a final stop. Two more whistles sounded, and then the intercom came over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have made our arrival to Eastern Headquarters. Your luggage will be taken care of, and awaiting you in your designated hotel room. Please make sure that your carry-on items are with you when you leave. Thank you for riding with the Central-Amestris Express, and have a wonderful day!

The man's eyes traveled to the foggy windows. He couldn't see very well through the cloudy white film of water vapor. His attention was turned at the sound of bustling soldier's, eager to get off of the train. Then, Hawkeye's voice sounded.

"Come on, sir. We need to get out now while we still can."

Roy couldn't help but smile at her words. Nodding, his arms unfolded, and he rose to his feet, stretching lightly as he did so. He reached up to grab his bag, and did the same with hers, handing it to her afterwards. He didn't miss the soft thank you when they slid the compartment door open. Mustang and Hawkeye filed into the thick stream of soldiers unloading. It wasn't long, considering they were at the front of the car.

He was surprised when he stepped off the train. The crunch underneath his boots was unfamiliar, and the white powder that covered the town was a sight to see. Children lingered on every corner, laughing while they pelted each other with snowballs, or rolled giant piles of snow into snowmen. Shops had closed down, and many people were out and about to admire the beauty of the snow. Indeed, it was a site to see.

The General was momentarily lost in thought. It was only when he felt the gentle tug on his sleeve that he was drawn from his reverie. He turned, a bit startled, and found Hawkeye at his side.

"You'll have time to play in the snow later, sir. We need to get to the hotel."

Huffing a sigh at her comment, he nodded anyway and followed after her to the awaiting line of black cars.

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"Hey chief, I hear you get a room to yourself."

The man's brow rose ever so slightly at the sound of Havoc's voice. Havoc strode casually behind him, his cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. His features shifted when he saw Mustang's gaze, and he grinned his usual smile. Roy couldn't help but smirk.

"That's right. It's about time I get some respect from the higher ups."

He was joking, of course, despite his monotone voice. Roy couldn't be more pleased with the way things were going. Bradley was gone. That was the best outcome that had happened that night. Despite being injured, despite his failed attempt to save the Fuhrer's son, and even despite the fact that he had allowed Hawkeye to be injured, Bradley was gone. Amestris was no longer at war, and the government seemed to be in good hands.

"I think your room is next to Hawkeye's, chief."

Mustang let out an uninterested 'Hmm'. He was surprised at this, but nonetheless content. When they finally reached his room, he pulled out his key, stuck it in the lock, and turned. The bright light shone in and lit up the small room. Like any other hotel room, there was a full-size bed in the center, with end tables on either side. Across from it was a small round table, with two chairs on each end. In front of him, towards the back of the room, was the bathroom, he assumed. But to the right, in the corner of the room, was another door.

Stepping into the room, he noted the suitcase tucked hastily underneath the bed. He set his carry-on down, and slid his black overcoat off, tossing it onto the nearby chair. Glancing at the threshold, he couldn't help but frown when he saw Havoc lighting up the once-unlit stick.

Perturbed by the door that was now opposite him, he strode around the bed, and walked towards it. Stopping just before it, he noted the deadbolt, and the chain latch. Wondering what could be beyond it, he unlatched the chain, and unbolted the lock. Bare hand grasped the handle, and with difficulty, considering this door hadn't been opened often, he turned and pulled.

The next couple of moments were a blur to him. His eyes locked onto the half-naked figure, clothed only in simple yet eloquent underwear, which was noted to be slightly lacy and a bit see-through. The blonde hair, usually worn in a bun, was down, much like it had been when he had spent months in her care. And despite those months, he had never seen something quite like this. Of all the women he had been with, he'd never had his breath taken away like it was right now…

And then, sound resumed its rightful place.

"GENERAL! Have you ever heard of knocking?!"

The next thing he knew, a boot had launched itself straight into his face, and knocked him backwards.

To say he was shocked was an understatement. Struggling to regain his composure, he slammed the door shut, locking the latch and the deadbolt with one hand. The other was plastered to his face. Once the door was shut, he stumbled across the room and wrenched the bathroom door open. He flicked on the light, and moved to the sink. Wincing through the pain coming from his noise, he slowly drew his hand back, which had been painted in bright crimson. He cursed under his breath. Behind him, Havoc was roaring with laughter.

He turned, moving deftly from the bathroom. Stooping to pick up the boot, he grasped it firmly in one hand, and chucked it as hard as he could at Havoc. It hit him square in the chest, and the man choked slightly on the cigarette in his mouth for a moment. When he recovered, he began laughing once more. He bent over to pick up the boot, and then stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Muttering under his breath, Roy turned and retreated to the bathroom to clean up his bleeding nose.

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His nose had finally stopped bleeding. Before going to dinner at one of the local restaurants, Roy had made Havoc swear not to recite the story to anyone, so help him. Despite Havoc's snickers throughout the promise, Mustang knew he would keep his word.

Hawkeye seemed to have recovered from the initial shock of Roy's peeping tom episode. She acted like she normally did, unless she caught Havoc smirking at her. She had the obligation to give him a painful kick in the shin whenever he did so. Roy didn't mind one bit. Besides, he could only hope that Havoc's painful wincing brought more attention to him than the small piece of white tissue paper stuck up his own nose.

Dinner was good. By the time he had finished through 4/5ths of his steak and all of his salad, he was full. He had a few beers to top it off. The guys wanted to go explore the city while they could. A few snowballs thrown around didn't seem like a bad idea, either. Despite this, Roy didn't feel like putting up with his staff's eagerness. However, when he found out that Hawkeye was going back to the hotel as he was, he began having second thoughts.

But she insisted on walking back with him anyway. Why didn't that surprise him? He gave in without a fight, and chose to walk back through the snow with her, to the other side of town.

Their footsteps seemed simultaneous. The cold air made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and the ache in his nose more prominent. The strong smell of cold pierced it, and he winced with every breath. Whether or not it was his wincing that she noticed, he wasn't sure, but a moment later, she spoke.

"I'm sorry for earlier, sir. I didn't mean to hit your face. Force of habit…"

He chuckled softly, but immediately regretted it. He winced, and tensed his jaw, biting back the urge to complain.

"I don't blame you, Hawkeye. You were right. I should have knocked. I thought it was a closet, though. I wasn't sure… But either way, that's no excuse. I apologize."

She shook her head, her blonde bangs brushing her eyes gently.

"That still wasn't called for. I feel terrible. How badly does it hurt, sir?"

He shrugged beneath his overcoat, muscles shifting as he did so.

"Certain facial expressions are a pain… But other than that, it's fine."

He noted her cringe slightly, and sighed softly when she did so.

They walked in silence the rest of the way. It was only after they had trudged up the stairs to the second floor of the hotel that they finally spoke once more.

"The boys are having breakfast at the same place tomorrow morning. O'eight-hundred, sharp."

He smiled, and it was the infamous smirk of a smile that Roy Mustang was so well known for.

"I'll be there. Goodnight, Hawkeye."

She smiled back, and nodded before unlocking her door.

"Goodnight, sir."

The door shut softly, but he sighed anyways. His features dropped from the smile, and he frowned. His hand rose, and he pressed his fingertips against the cold metal. He recalled the months since passed, when he used to wake in the night, and found himself standing in her doorway, watching her sleep.

He missed those nights, when he watched the moonlight drift over her sleeping form, highlighting the soft, golden tresses. Her pale skin looked unnaturally soft, and her lips were so inviting that it took all that he had to stand there in the door, instead of creeping to her bedside, and kissing the woman's beautiful mouth...

He felt his throat tighten in his self-pity, for he knew that he would never have such a thing. He would never have someone as wonderful as her. And even though he loved her, and even though he wouldn't admit it, he knew that she deserved far better than he.

His gaze shifted towards the darkening night sky. The moon, which was bright and stunning, cast shades of blue, black, and purple. The buildings cast their own shadows, turning and twisting with the angle of the moon. The snow sparkled brilliantly from the light, and he sighed as he took in the sight. Imperfect and beautiful. If only…

Turning, the man walked a few feet, before withdrawing his hotel key. He slid it into the handle, and stepped in. The door was shut with a quiet 'snap', and the lights, which had turned on momentarily, went out as well.

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**And there you have it. The third chapter. A bit of comedy, a bit of romance, and bit of angst. I hope you all enjoyed it. I want my reviews up to TWELVE before updating next Monday.**

**Guys, seriously… I want reviews.**

**Don't forget about my new website, either. Feedback for that it good, too. **

**Until next week,**

**-Bryan M.**


	4. The Rehearsal

**Hello readers. Thanks to all of you who reviewed. Since a small problem came up, and since I'm going to be at the hospital most of Monday(I'm getting blood drawn), I decided to update early.**

**The door issue in the last chapter may have confused some of you. It's not that Riza's door was unlocked. Hotel rooms have doors between a certain number of rooms for: 1) a fire escape, 2) so that families in multiple hotel rooms can move easily throughout them.**

**I hope that clears some things up. Also, General Grumman will be making a guest-star appearance in this chapter. I'm combining anime with manga, so you all know.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, or any of its characters.

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**Back to The East

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**Chapter Four: The Rehearsal**

Mustang's nose felt much better the next morning. He awoke around seven, and then showered and brushed his teeth. Roy dressed casually, and after he'd thrown on a pair of comfortable jeans, an undershirt and an oxford, he left the hotel room. Accompanied by Hawkeye, the two left to breakfast with the rest of the gang.

The restaurant was packed. Other soldiers had, like them, decided to have breakfast there. Everyone wanted a good breakfast, considering they had a long day ahead of them. After Mustang's team had eaten their fill, Hawkeye relayed the day's schedule, which she had memorized. At 0900, they were to report on post, in the main auditorium. From 0900 to 1200, they were going to be rehearsing. They were given an hour break for lunch in the main cafeteria, before returning to continue practicing until 1500.

As the time ticked closer towards nine, soldiers started leaving. With a sigh, Roy suggested they do the same. Functions like this seemed to drag on forever. He couldn't wait until it was all over with…

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The rehearsal wasn't nearly as bad as Mustang had predicted. It wasn't that rehearsals usually went wrong or anything. It would be particularly sad if it hadn't gone according to plan, considering this was supposed to be a _promotion_. Roll call was fairly easy, as was the directions on what group should stand up according to what rank, and so on. There wasn't much of a problem with that. However, it was the whole ordeal that imposed upon Mustang's mood. Roy had always found award ceremonies particularly boring, but this one was different.

Soldiers from all over Amestris had arrived to take part in the colossal promotion, and Roy found himself among many people he had met throughout his career. Armstrong was even there. Even as the directors of the rehearsal showed them where to go, what to do, and where to exit, there was a comforting and excited atmosphere that surrounded the crowded room.

When it was all over, Roy wished that it had gone on longer. The time they spent in the room had gone by so fast that he couldn't believe it was already three in the afternoon. When it was done, however, his staff decided they were going to go to the local theater to see a picture movie. Before he could leave, he was called forth by yet another familiar face: General Grumman. His staff left, and he and the elder General took a walk around the grounds.

It was easy to be himself around Grumman. His calm demeanor was something Roy had grown accustomed to while at East Headquarters. Grumman had not been present in Central during the revolt against Bradley, and it was with the will of the new government that the information Mustang and the Elric brothers had retrieved was to be kept a secret. However, Roy saw no harm in relaying the story to Grumman, seeing as he _was_ a General, and the information would probably prove interesting.

Grumman listened in near silence at Roy's story, grunting now and then in response to certain aspects. Once in a while, Grumman would utter a quiet 'Mhmm', or 'Oh?'. After they had circled the grounds their third time, Roy found himself coming to the conclusion of the matter.

"Then I spent almost a year in recovery with Lieutenant Hawkeye. She took very good care of me… But unfortunately, I think she still blames herself for what happened. She told me it was her fault, once. That it was because she wasn't there in time."

Grumman chuckled softly, before speaking. "She would, wouldn't she Mustang? You know how she is… Always taking the responsibility for things going wrong. She did that when her mother passed away, as well. She's so young and yet so mature for her age."

Mustang nodded. "Yes sir, she is. I've often find myself wondering what I would do without her."

Grumman's features hardened slightly at this, and he turned and stared at Mustang.

"Are you still planning on becoming Fuhrer, Roy?"

Mustang stopped dead in his tracks, and Grumman followed suite. The two men stared at each other for a long moment. It wasn't often that Roy was caught off guard, but this… He had never mentioned anything to General Grumman about rising to the top. How? Mustang's lips parted, and he searched for words… But before he could say anything, Grumman smiled, and spoke once more.

"Come now, Mustang. You don't honestly believe that I didn't see what was going on? I know you, Roy. I saw what the war did to you, what it put you through. And I know that my Riza wouldn't be following you so diligently if she didn't have a good reason to. You're a good man, Roy. You know what's wrong and what's right. It seemed to be the only explanation. The fact that you were so eager to take Bradley out concludes my theory. Don't tell me I'm wrong."

Roy stared at Grumman for a few moments longer, before sighing with defeat. He smiled weakly, and started walking forward again.

"You're correct, sir. I do want to become Fuhrer. Not just because Bradley was what he was… I wanted to so that I could atone for what I did during the war."

"Have you not already? You've ridden the country of an evil leader and a corrupted military. You've helped create a new Government for the people. That in itself should be enough, shouldn't it?"

Mustang's smile widened, and he turned to glance at Grumman again.

"It's not that simple. I made a promise to someone. I intend to keep that promise, sir."

"Ah," Grumman muttered, nodding softly. "I understand… So you're going to continue to rise in the ranks and become Fuhrer?"

Roy nodded, his gaze moving ahead of him. The men walked in silence for a few yards, before Grumman spoke once more.

"What do you intend to do when you become Fuhrer, Mustang?"

Roy was quiet for a moment, his thoughts sifting over and over.

"I think I'll start with the Ishballans. Even though we've released them, they still aren't being funded enough to return to the way it was. I may look more into Bradley, and what was going on with the rest of the homunculi, and their leader. There isn't much left, considering Edward and Alphonse killed the majority of them, but I'm sure there's still some evidence left. It'll be hard, considering Alphonse doesn't remember anything, and Edward is gone."

Roy rambled on for another walk around the courtyard, explaining about some treaties he had in mind for neighboring countries and such. It was only when he ran out of things to say that the elder General spoke again.

"And what about the fraternization regulation?"

Mustang's stepped slowed, and his features shifted into a light frown. He was confused.

"Why would I need to do anything about that?"

Grumman sighed, and shook his head.

"You didn't lose your eye, Mustang, but you sure are a blind man. You mean to tell me that you have no idea, whatsoever, as to why you might change those rules?"

Roy was silent for a few moments. Both men slowed in their steps, more so for Mustang's sake. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute. Did Grumman know about that too? Had Riza spoken to him about something? If she had, how could she? That wasn't fair… But what if, like before, the General had assumed that too?

Finally, Mustang sighed. "You mean because of Riza?"

"Of course I mean because of Riza," Grumman muttered, his gaze hardening on Roy's face. "Whether you want to believe it or not, Roy Mustang, that woman loves you with every fiber of her being. She's told me plenty about you, and what she's done for you. Even though she's never admitted it to me, it's obvious. I know you're an infamous womanizer, and military women aren't your type, but for Riza's sake… For everything she's done for you, and everything she will do for you, give her a chance. I know that it's not my place, Mustang. But if you get the chance to change the rules someday, take it… Take it before it's too late."

* * *

Roy had much to think about when he got back to the hotel. He stopped by Hawkeye's room to discover that his staff still hadn't returned. Mustang decided against staying in his hotel room with nothing to do. He left a note on Havoc's door, informing him where he'd be, before he made his way into town.

He strolled casually along the street, looking into the different windows of each store with little interest. His thoughts were far away from what he was looking at.

Hawkeye had been by his side for the longest time. Since they were children, when he was apprenticing under her Father, Roy had been her companion when he wasn't studying. In the war in Ishbal, Riza's protective scope kept Roy safe from any dangers that he couldn't attend to while distracted in battle. After the war, she was by his side, wherever he went.

And on that night, when he found himself half-conscious, on the steps of the Fuhrer's mansion… When he thought that it was the end of his life, and that he would never see the light of day again, she was there.

When he had awoken to bright, white lights of the hospital, she was there, her hand gripped firmly around his own. And when she had taken him home, she was there to bandage him, and feed him, and nurse him back to health. And when he had to try to walk again, she was by his side the whole time, there to pick him up when he tripped or stumbled…

And now, on their trip back to the East, she was here with him, willing to go one step closer to the top.

The man couldn't help the soft prickling that started behind his eyes and nose. But he knew that now, as he strode slowly past the shops, it wasn't the right time or place to think or feel these things. However, it wasn't often enough that he reflected on the selfless loyalty of his greatest companion, and so he didn't stop. His thoughts continued for what seemed like forever, and it was only until he heard the sound of his name being called that he was pulled from his reverie.

He stopped abruptly, realizing that he had walked too far past where he had said he was going. Turning, his gaze shifted behind him, and he was greeted with the sight of Hawkeye walking towards him. He watched her, his gaze locked onto her own…

Her hair was down again, and she had changed into an oxford much like the one she had worn the day they had that conversation while she fed him sliced apples. He remembered it clearly, as if it had happened yesterday.

"_It's my fault. The plan was perfect. You did your part. If I hadn't-"_

"_Nothing's perfect… The world isn't perfect."_

_He smiled calmly at her, and his hand rose, his fingertips gently brushing the soft, golden tresses._

"_That's what makes it so damn beautiful."_

"Sir," Hawkeye greeted, smiling warmly at him as she approached. She came to a stop, and stared at him, noting his quietness. "We've been looking for you. We're going to try a new restaurant for dinner. We didn't think you'd mind, but if… Sir? Are you alright?"

Mustang stared at her for a long moment, his eyes searching her own for any sign… And he found it. Slowly, his features softened into a smile. She returned it, although hesitantly. The two turned and walked back towards the new restaurant they were attending.

And he knew, for sure.

He was going to tell her.

* * *

**And that's that. I hope you guys liked it. I always wondered what a conversation between those two(Roy and Grumman) would be like, so I really enjoyed writing that scene. **

**The next chapter will probably involve a sex scene towards the end. I'm still debating, so… Yeah. I'll update once the reviews hit 22.**

**Thanks again for reviewing, guys. I really appreciate it.**

**Until next time,**

**-Bryan**


	5. The Award Ceremony

**Hello again, and sorry for not updating sooner. Thanks so much for all the reviews, guys. Also, I'd like the thank Joshua for his apology.**

**Now, I've done some thinking, and I've decided that this story will be a bit longer than originally planned. It may go so far as chapter 20, but I haven't decided.**

**If you'd like me to go that far with this story, please let me know. It will help me decide sooner.**

**Btw's there's going to be a dance after the award ceremony. Just thought I'd let everyone know.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, or any of its characters.**

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**Back to The East**

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**Chapter Five: The Award Ceremony**

The man's fingers slid to and fro easily as he tied his tie. He lifted his chin and his eyes lowered to the mirror, making sure that the material was precise. When he was finished, he grasped the triangular piece, and easily pulled it upwards to tighten it. Never one to be outdone, Roy had always enjoyed dressing up. It was much more distinguishable than the familiar blue military uniforms.

Mustang's attention was caught by the sound of a clearing throat. Turning, he found himself face to face with Havoc, who held both ends of his tie awkwardly in both hands. He smiled nervously, chuckling.

"Uh… Chief? A little help, please?"

Roy couldn't help but roll his eyes. Go figure Havoc didn't know how to tie a tie… It was a miracle that the man even managed to live alone. Shaking his head, he strode forward, and grasped the ends of the tie, and started over again.

A knock at the door sounded, and Mustang uttered a loud, 'Come in'. The handle turned and the door opened, and then Hawkeye came in, followed by Breda, Falman, and Fuery. He nodded accordingly to them, acknowledging their presence.

"You should hurry, sir. The ceremony starts in an hour. We don't want to be late."

The others eyed Roy perceptively, and noted exactly what he was doing. While the others started laughing, Breda decided to speak.

"So Havoc, are you having trouble with your tie there?"

Roy finished a moment later, and Havoc turned, glaring at them.

"Shut up, Breda."

"All right, boys. Settle down. Let's get going," Hawkeye said calmly.

One by one, they shuffled down the stairs, and into the awaiting black cars.

* * *

It was unlike a man like Roy Mustang to get nervous easily. So he was surprised that when he sat down in his designated chair and felt the coldness spread through his feet and the dampness that touched his palms. He was never one to lose his cool, but he had to admit that he was having some trouble this time.

Perhaps it was because his mind kept wandering to what had happened the previous day, during the walk around the premises with General Grumman. He had done a lot of thinking last night as to what he intended to do about the whole…situation.

And the fact that there was a dance afterwards just made things seem more awkward. Of course he had to attend. Everyone did. But how was he going to tell her? When was he going to tell her? …Where was he going to tell her? It wasn't like he could just drop to his knee in the middle of the dance floor and tell her that he loved her.

But Roy knew that he couldn't be distracted. This was one of the most important moments of his life. He was being promoted… He was going one step closer to the top, and _she_ was coming with him.

Instead of worrying about the dance, he turned his attention on the mass of soldiers that was filing into the auditorium. It was only when they had all taken their seats that the director of the whole promotion ceremony slowly walked up onto the stage. He tapped the mic awkwardly a few times, before clearing his throat. The room fell into a hush instantly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his tone very clear and calm, "My name is Mr. Wilson, and I'd like to thank you all for coming out today, to celebrate the promotions of some of Amestris' finest men and women. Today, we will be taking part in a moment of history. I'd like to introduce General Grumman, and the Chief Executive of the Government Council, Mr. Anderson. They will be taking part in the ceremony, and will be distributing the awards and shaking the hands of our troops."

The room began to clap, quietly but surely, and Mr. Wilson waited until it was quiet again to speak.

"We're going to start tonight's ceremony with our enlisted members. May I please have the first group rise…"

The group at the very front rose in unison, and a long line of younger men and women went in a single line up to the stage. Names were called alphabetically, and their current rank was stated, followed by their promoted rank.

And so it went as such. Men and women were promoted from every enlisted rank, including privates, corporals, and sergeants. When the enlisted group was finished, the officers came next in line. There were fewer officers than there were enlisted soldiers, but that was understandable. After Mr. Wilson had called the lieutenants, the captains, the majors, and the colonels, it was time for the generals to be called. Two men rose when this was announced, and both went up to receive their award. One was promoted from Brigadier General to Major General, while the other who was a Major General, was promoted to a Lieutenant General. Claps ensued…

"And last, but certainly not least, may we have the state alchemist flag officer come up…"

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and his fists tightened. Rising, he stepped into the middle of the isle and made his way up to the stage. His fingers trembled despite the hard enclosure of his fists, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. He paused at the stairs, and stopped, waiting.

"As all of you are aware, Brigadier General Roy Mustang was involved in the death of Fuhrer Bradley. Circumstances forbid the details from being told, but evidence has proven that this man has shown courage, loyalty, and honor to his _country_. Because of this, it has been agreed upon that Brigadier General Mustang will be promoted _two_ ranks as reward to his outstanding act of patriotism."

Mustang's eyes widened incredulously at this, and his gaze rose, his eyes casting over the smiling faces of General Grumman and Mr. Anderson. That couldn't be right, could it? He couldn't think. He hadn't expected this.

He wasn't aware of the steps he climbed up, or the group of men that was getting closer and closer. He barely noticed the hands that grasped his own and shook fiercely. He couldn't pick out of the faces of the soldiers he knew in the sea of blue and black when he turned to look at the crowd. He didn't realize that he was gripping the silver plaque that had his name and his new title engraved on it.

The only thing that he was aware of, however, was the sound of crowd, cheering and clapping louder than they had for any other soldier.

* * *

"Congratulations, sir."

He had finally gotten out of the crowded room, where he was stopped almost a thousand times and was congratulated and saluted to. Not that he minded, but he was in such a shock that he needed to get away from it all… As soon as he had stepped out of the auditorium she was there, facing him, saluting his as well.

Smiling, he stepped towards her, stopping just a few inches in front of her. His hand grasped her wrist, and he pulled her from her salute.

"Thank you, Hawkeye, but a salute isn't necessary."

"You're a four-star general, sir. I'm simply a captain. It seemed _quite_ necessary."

He chuckled softly and shook his head. He heard his name called, and he turned to see Armstrong come out of the building, followed by his staff. After they all exchanged a few words of congratulations, they all headed across the large courtyard to the main building, where the "Military Ball" was being held. Not only were the people who were being promoted going, but also the whole Eastern base.

When they arrived at 7:30, it was already crowded. It was quite a relief to discover that they had a reserved table for their party of seven. When the crowd of people seemed to finally be situated, dinner was brought out for everyone, along with drinks. A band, which was located in the corner of the room, struck up a tune, providing background music while the group of soldiers dined and chatted amongst themselves.

When they were finished, Mr. Wilson called for their attention once more, and informed them that the grounds were open to anyone who decided to take the party outside. He informed that that the party would last until 1 in the morning, but that transportation would be available to anyone who decided to leave.

After he finished, the band started off with a few slow songs. Couples had formed instantly, like magic, and soon the floor was covered with a mass of slow-swinging duos. Havoc and Breda, per usual, had gone off to find themselves partners. Fuery declined, and he and Falman took to sitting at the table and conversing. Armstrong had apparently found his own date, and was out in the middle of the floor, a good two feet above all the others.

Mustang had excused himself to the bathroom in the meantime. Despite himself, he was growing nervous again. He sighed when he entered, and headed for the sink. Both hands gripped the sides of the white porcelain and he tensed, his eyes gazing into the mirror to view his own reflection. What was wrong with him? He never had any trouble with any of the other women he had been with. So why now?

But he already knew the answer to that even before he had asked himself that question. Riza Hawkeye wasn't just some late-night fling, or a one-night stand. She was the real deal. It was different now because he hadn't loved any of the other women he had ever been with. But he loved her.

He sighed and straightened. His gaze lingered on his reflection and he frowned, his eyes watching the way his face cringed… How could she love someone like him? He was a terrible person who had sinned more often than he repented. What did she see in him?

The door opened suddenly, and he turned to see another soldier come into the bathroom. He gave a nod to Roy, before moving into one of the stalls. Without a word, Roy slid out of the bathroom and back into the main room.

Dark, obsidian gaze lingered from figure to figure, until it came upon someone all too familiar. His footsteps were quiet when he approached her, and they stopped altogether when he was about three or so feet behind her. He cleared his throat softly and she turned around, smiling gently at him.

"Hello again, sir. Enjoy your trip to the bathroom?"

He smirked lightly, his gaze shifting towards the group of dancing couples.

"Of course I did, Hawkeye."

She watched him carefully, and her gaze followed his to the dance floor. Turning around once again, her features shifted into the all-too-familiar docile façade.

"Something on your mind, sir?"

His eyes locked on hers when she said that, and he stared for what seemed like forever. His features, which had tightened, slowly relaxed and he smiled hesitantly.

"Would you like to dance, Hawkeye?"

He was afraid she was going to say no when her features remained unchanged for a few moments. The seconds ticked by. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand…

"Of course, sir."

Inwardly, he sighed with relief. He straightened, and offered her his arm just as the last song ended. He felt his stomach knot up when she took it. With steady steps, he led her onto the floor. They faced each other, and his right hand gently slid against her waist while his left gently grasped hers. She smiled back and grasped his shoulder, and her gaze shifted to their hands. Slowly, she entwined her fingers with his… His gaze lingered on their hands, and his lips parted to speak, but he could say nothing.

Then, a moment later, the music began, and he started, leading her to and fro in easy, one-two-three steps.

And it was perfect.

* * *

When they were finished dancing, they took a stroll outside. It seemed awfully hot in the main building, so it was nice to go out into the cool, refreshing winter air. It had been a long time since the two of them had really had a moment alone, and it was easy for Mustang to admit that he enjoyed the company he had with his Captain.

It was during this time that he recalled the many months he had spent in her care. Every step of his recovery, she was right there with him, ready at a moment's notice to help him back on his feet if he tripped or fell.

He sighed, and she noticed it immediately.

"Is everything alright, sir?"

He turned to glance at her, and he nodded. They walked down a way on the cement sidewalk, before they turned and started around the perimeter of the courtyard. However, they didn't walk in silence. Instead, they started discussing what was going to happen now that Roy had been promoted to a full General. It was at this time that he chose to bring up General Grumman.

"I talked to your Grandfather the other day…"

"Oh," Riza muttered quietly, thin brow arching lightly. "And what did he say?"

Roy shrugged, muscles rippling beneath the dress uniform.

"We talked about some things that might change if I plan to get to the top."

She was quiet for a few moments.

"I wasn't aware the General knew about your intentions, sir."

"You and I both, Hawkeye. But the General knows things… I have to give that old man credit. He's smarter than one would think."

She nodded in agreement, and they fell silent once more. Inside, however, Roy was screaming at himself. They headed towards the back of the building, which was secluded from prying eyes. It was now or never.

His stomached tightened and his lips parted, trembling slightly.

"Riza…"

She paused for a moment at the sound of her name and came to a halt. He did as well. She looked at him, noting the strained sound in his tone. Amber met obsidian, and she stared into the depths of his eyes, much like she had those nights they stayed up and talked for hours and hours…

"What is it, Roy? What do you want to tell me?"

He gazed at her for a long moment, thoughts racing in his head. The line was so thin and breakable. If he did this…there was no going back. But he didn't want to go back. He wanted to go forward, with her. Hadn't he always? He saw that now. Even so, he couldn't help but be afraid that that wasn't what she wanted. It was then that he heard the old General's words once more…

"_Whether you want to believe it or not, Roy Mustang, that woman loves you with every fiber of her being."_

His heart's thud sped up, and he leaned forward with deft movements. His right hand rose, and his fingertips brushed the side of her neck while his thumb gently touched her cheek. He leaned forward without hesitation, but it was an unrushed and easy movement.

His lips gently caressed hers. He was surprised by how warm her lips were when he touched them. He felt her inhale with sudden surprise, and then she tensed, and he was so afraid that she would pull away… But she didn't. Instead, her head tilted slightly to the side, opposite his.

He stepped closer to her, his chest barely brushing her own. He felt her hands grasp the lapels of his coat, and she pulled him further against her. Meanwhile, the man's lips had since moved from her bottom lip to her top, and hesitantly, his tongue slid forward, just brushing the tiniest bit of her lip… And then he heard her whimper softly, and it was enough to send him over the edge.

He pushed her backwards softly into a near-by statue, and her hands were on him, pulling at the brass buttons of his coat. His hand had shifted to the back of her neck, and he pulled her deeper into the kiss. Their breathing became ragged, their kisses more frantic. It was only when he had to stop kissing her and pull away that he came back to his senses, which had been momentarily dulled by the heat of their passion. Dizzy, he sighed, his broad chest rising and falling swiftly in order to calm the burning in his lungs.

He looked at her then, his eyes traveling over her beautiful face, past the now slightly astray golden tresses, the blushed cheeks, and the pink flush of her lips… Smiling softly, he straightened and moved forward once more. Her hands slid beneath the coat again, and her fingertips trailed the hard muscles of his abdomen. He kissed her again, but it was soft and sweet and tender. Then, his head lowered, and he pressed his face between her shoulder and neck, kissing softly.

"We should leave… Go back to the hotel room."

She sighed, and closed her eyes. She knew that it was far too dangerous to do something like this out here. Despite herself, she nodded in agreement.

"Alright, Roy."

They pulled away from each other, and straightened themselves so that they nearly resembled how they were a few minutes ago. Side by side, they headed back towards the main building to find the cars that would take them back to the hotel.

* * *

**And there you guys have it. **

**Obviously, the next chapter will have sex. Forgive me if it's bad. I hope it won't be. I will certainly try my best.**

**Don't forget to review and let me know what you think about making it a 20+ chapter.**

**I want over 35 reviews next time.**

**Later guys. PLEEEEEAAASEEE review!**

**-Bryan**


	6. One And Only Love

**AN:**

**I hope you all enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, or any of its characters.

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**Back to The East

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**Chapter Six: One And Only Love**

His fingertips felt numb as he impatiently attempted to unlock the door. Perhaps it was because he was nervous. His heart was racing, his thoughts in a whirl… He was acutely aware of the sound of her breathing, and the warmth her body gave off as she stood beside him, seemingly unfamiliar. Unfamiliar. No, that wasn't right. He had always sensed and enjoyed her presence whenever she was around him. It was just different now, now that they had silently revealed each other's subconscious thoughts. Now, both of them knew what the other wanted, and now that the line had been crossed, there was no going back. It seemed funny, really… It seemed much like it had that night at the Fuhrer's mansion. No going back. No more regrets.

The door was opened swiftly, but he controlled himself and allowed her to pass without too much trouble. His hungry eyes tore from her, and the man's obsidian gaze cast one last glance around the perimeter before he followed her inside. He had to make sure that no one saw… After all, he wasn't Fuhrer. Yet.

The door was kicked shut, and he made sure that the latch was notched, and the deadbolt was turned. When he was satisfied that it was secure enough, he turned to face the room. However, he hadn't even managed to finish the about turn when he felt her frame press against his. He was surprised by the intensity of the kiss, despite its measured quantity. Like waves collapsing on a beach, she kissed and drew back, again and again.

Her hands were on him, but her touch was hesitant; pulling, unbuttoning, removing. Jacket, shoes, and dress shirt were slowly eliminated. Occupied by the pushing and pulling of their desperate lips, Roy wasn't quite aware of her intruding touch until her hands met his bare skin. He was reminded of his element then, for the sensation of flesh beneath her fingertips seemed to burn like fire. He hissed softly in pleasure, drawing away from her lips for a moment.

Her hands slid from his chest to his abdomen, and then down the faint treasure trail of coarse, dark hair. Her hands shook in anticipation, and her fingertips grasped the belt buckle of his pants. However, his hands lowered to grasp hers. He smiled at her softly, and leaned forward to kiss her lips, crooning softly, "Ah, ah, ah… My turn."

This was unlike any of the nights Roy Mustang had spent with other women, and he was glad. This wasn't just a weekend fling, or a one-night stand… This was _Riza_, the woman who knew him better than anyone else he had ever known. The woman who would give _everything_ and do _anything_ for him.

It was because of this that Mustang worked more slowly than she had. First, the brass buttons of her uniform dress were undone, one by one by one… Then, it was slid off of her shoulders, and tossed carefully onto the table. The white oxford beneath it came next, the buttons slowly toyed with moment by moment, while his lips gently caressed her neck and her jaw.

When that was gone, he walked her to the bed, hands tracing her frame. The backs of her calves hit it first, and she stopped. He kissed her lips, and he felt her hands drop to his pants. Her fingertips lingered on the metal buckle. Her eyes rose to his for a moment, before she looked away, frowning slightly. He frowned, as well…

"Riza…"

Her gaze rose, and her lips trembled softly. He sighed, and his hand rose, palm caressing her cheek. She leaned into him easily, and exhaled a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry, Roy…"

"No," he muttered quietly. His other hand rose, and he held her head gently between his grasp. "Don't be sorry… It's okay, Riza. It's okay to be nervous…"

She smiled, and her hands rose, grasping his. His gaze deepened, brows rising questionably.

"Is this what you want?"

Riza was quiet for a moment. Her gaze shifted, thoughts passing. They may never get another chance like this… She smiled, but it was soft.

"Yes, Roy. This is what I want."

He let go, and his hands lowered to his belt. Slowly, he undid it, and let the blue dress pants fall to his ankles, followed by the pair of black boxers. His gaze remained on hers when he reached forward, fingertips tracing the top of her skirt… Brows rose once more, as if to silently ask…

She leaned forward and kissed him, answering his inquiry. Her hands lowered to his, and together, they slid the material off, along with her underwear. She drew away from him, her hands sliding behind her to undo her bra. Then, that too found its way to the floor.

He stared at her then. Slowly, his gaze traveled up the woman's calves, past the gentle curvature of her hips, up the slightly defined stomach, over the supple breasts, along the line of her collarbone, around the luscious, pink lips, and then up to her amber stare. He smiled at her for a moment, and she smiled back…

Then, it faded, and his features shifted into a slight frown. Overcome by his own emotions, he felt his chest swell with sadness and anxiety, as he recalled how many times he had dreamed of this night.

Breathlessly, he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. It was sweet but powerful, filled with want and compassion. Words didn't seem enough to describe how he felt now, this empowering desire to _love_ her, to make her see that she was his _everything_ and more. If only he could tell her how long he had wanted this, how many nights he had drank himself to sleep out of despair and sorrow, only because they could not be together, like this…

Her arms slid around him and his around her, and they embraced each other like that for a long moment. Once more, he was overcome by a whirlwind of emotion, but this time, it was more so because of the physical aspect of their position. Her skin felt smooth beneath his grasp, and his chin rested against her forehead. The soft, silky tresses tickled his face slightly, making him smile. He inhaled, and his eyes closed at the nice scent of her shampoo, like a mixture of lavender and clean cotton. Then, he was away of her hand gently rubbing against his back, comforting him.

He sighed contently, knowing that she had understood his dilemma. Her head, which had been tucked between his neck and shoulder, shifted. Softly, she kissed his chest, her lips brushing over the scar that the Fuhrer had delivered to him such a short time ago. Gently, she hugged him tighter and whispered softly, "Come here, Roy."

She drew away from him to slide beneath the soft sheets. Her gaze remained on him when he turned to shut off the lights. For a moment, everything went dark, and then her eyes adjusted to the faint light shining in through the blinds. He stood about three feet away from the bed, and his gaze seemed to be looking straight at her. She couldn't help but smile… Roy Mustang was, in all truth, a very beautiful and handsome man.

The blues and blacks and purples of the faint light sculpted his features magnificently. The shadows seemed to reflect every muscle in his body. Every curve, every angle, every scar, everything… It was all laid out like the most beautiful painting she had ever seen. But the smile that tugged at his lips was the source of most of her attention.

She returned his smile, and he slowly slid forward onto the bed. He drew the sheets away from her, and replaced it with his body. His lips captured hers as he settled beside her, and his hands came to rest on her waist, his fingertips tracing the contours of her hips and thighs, and then her waist and stomach. Her hands found his body and once more, he felt the cool sensation of her burning touch.

Their lips danced, fusing and breaking in multiple intervals. When the need for air arose, they parted, gasping desperately, their chests rising and falling in order to calm the pain in their lungs. And when they had quenched their thirst for oxygen, they returned for more, their lips meeting again.

When this no longer seemed to be enough, he rose beside her, pushing himself upwards. Hesitantly, she leaned back, relaxing despite herself. His lips lowered to hers, and she kissed him back, her fingertips brushing against his wrists, and then sliding up his arms, hands tracing the outlines of the muscles in his forearms. Roy's lips lowered from her own to her cheeks, and then her jaw.

His lips trailed her neck, and then shoulder to her collarbone, tongue sweeping across the pale, soft skin. She shuddered beneath him, and he chuckled. The sound resonated nicely in his chest, and she sighed quietly, pleased. His mouth lowered even further, until his lips came across a fleshy rise of sensitive skin, and he couldn't help but chuckle again when he heard her whimper. It excited him to hear her react, because Riza Hawkeye was a woman who remained calm in most situations. How intriguing it was that she, the least _sensitive_, responded so considerably compared to the other women that he had been with. But then, he recalled, as his tongue slid across the nipple, Riza Hawkeye was no ordinary woman.

Her muscles tensed when he did this, and she cried out softly, biting her lip to stifle the sound. Her hands had busied themselves in the man's smooth, dark tresses, and she gently pulled and ran her fingertips through his hair whenever he repeated the motion.

He sucked gently, but she made no sound this time. Her breathing, however, had picked up rapidly. He continued to suck, and every now and then, his tongue would dart across the sensitive patch of skin, and she would whimper quietly beneath him. When he seemed assured that he had spent enough time on that side, he switched, and treated the breast's twin with the same respect.

His lips had eventually found their way back up to hers, and he kissed her softly and sweetly. When he drew away, his gaze caught hers, and he stared for a long time into her eyes. Finally, her lips parted, and she spoke.

"What are you thinking, Roy?"

He smiled warmly at her, and his eyes closed for a moment, before opening.

"I'm thinking about how beautiful you are, Riza. And how lucky I am right now…"

Her lips brushed against his again, and he returned the kiss. After a few moments, it deepened, and they continued until it escalated to touching once more.

One of his hands boldly lowered, trailing against the skin of her abdomen. He paused for a moment to draw away for air, and then he pressed his hand against her. Her breathing hitched, and her hands, which had been gently resting on his back, tightened suddenly around him. His lips caressed her chin, and then lowered to her neck. Instinctively, she tilted her head sideways, sighing softly when his lips traced over her pulse.

His hand gently pressed against her again, and she moaned quietly. Her legs spread, and he sought for better reach. He chuckled when he noted her wetness, and he pressed harder against her, fingertips gently brushing against the soft patch of curls. Her hips thrust upwards against his hand, and he gently pressed down. Little by little, their rhythm started, slow and steady. Her hips would rise against his touch, begging for pressure that would ultimately end in the delicious sensation of ecstasy… But Roy wasn't ready for it to end too quickly.

His hand drew away, and she whined softly in complaint. He kissed her lips to shush her, and he turned to his side, shifting closer to her. Making sure that she was lying on her back, his hand lowered, gently resting on her thigh. Her protests ceased, and his words were soft when he told her to spread her legs. She did so earnestly, her hips rising in anticipation. Smirking, his hand lowered, fingertips pressing against her.

Her breathing became ragged once more as he explored her. It was easy to do so once his fingertips were well lubricated, and he gently traced his middle and forefinger up and down. He slid inside and sighed with anticipation at the feeling of tightness. Her hips bucked upwards in protest when he withdrew his fingers, and he laughed quietly in the dark, leaning towards her to kiss her lips. Once more, he began to explore.

He found what he had been searching for when he heard her gasp suddenly. His hand stopped, and repeated the circular motion it had just done, and in doing so, her previous noise was repeated. She moaned impatiently, her hand rising to gently grasp his forearm. She whispered his name breathlessly in the dark, and he smiled. He repeated the motion, and she settled back, her hips rising and falling with every stroke he delivered.

It was clear that she was close. He could hear it in the way she whimpered beneath him, writhing impatiently. However, Roy hadn't intended for her to finish like that. His movements slowed, much to her displeasure. He pulled his hand away and rose. He slid on top of her, his lips finding hers again. She kissed him back and he felt one of her legs wrap slightly around his hip. He drew back slightly, his breathing slightly rough.

"…Are you sure you want this?" His voice was quiet.

"I'm sure," she whispered, tone assuring.

Holding himself up with one hand, his free hand lowered and he grasped himself. Hesitantly, he guided himself in, careful not to rush. Comfort was precedent.

He wondered how on earth he had been able to fit. The walls around him felt much tighter than he had ever felt before, but even so, it felt… nice. His lowered his weight slightly onto her, and he felt her arms wrap around his torso. One hand became entangled in his hair, while the other traced the muscles on his back. She kissed his shoulder, and he smiled, returning the favor. Her foot rubbed against his leg in anticipation, and he kissed her once more.

"Riza…"

She exhaled slowly, her breath tickling his skin.

"What is it, Roy?"

Silence…

"I love you."

He noted the curve of her lips as she smiled.

"I know, Roy. I love you too."

He slid out slightly before thrusting forward. Her breath hitched just a bit, and her grasp on him tightened. He repeated this, sliding out more and more, only to return back to where he had started. It was slow at first, but then they sped up little by little.

Her grip on him softened, but she pulled him closer to her. She kissed his lips, and then buried her head between his shoulder and neck once more. Brushing her lips against his ear, she whimpered softly in his ear. Fueled by the sounds of her pleasure, he sped up, thrusting harder and faster into her. Their moans grew louder, and their breathing more labored. With every thrust, they both grew closer and closer.

He felt it coming. His hands fisted, grasping the bed sheets tightly. He pushed himself up for better leverage, and grip released. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him further into her. He sped up, and her moans shifted into words.

His name was quiet at first, but as his speed increased, so did the volume. Fearful of others hearing, he lowered to kiss her, stifling her tone after she had moaned his names a few times.

"Roy, Roy, Roy, Roy, Roy!"

Her walls tightened at the loudest crest of her chanting, and she moaned louder than she had before as she climaxed. It was enough to draw him to the edge, and a moment later, he too moaned at the wonderful sensation of his own finish. Everything seemed to explode into a whirlwind of white specks, and he collapsed against her.

They stayed like that for some time. Eventually, the unsteady rise and fall of their chests slowed to a normal, steady beat. He felt his tenseness release when her hand gently pressed against his back, fingertips tracing the skin. Slowly, he turned his head, which had been buried against her shoulder, towards her. He kissed her cheek gently, before he slowly slid out, and rolled onto the side.

She turned onto her side when he had moved, and she scooted closer. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her against him. He felt her lips press against his jaw, and he sighed contently. One hand rested on his waist, while the other brushed over the man's pectoral muscle. He smiled softly at this, enjoying the way her fingertips brushed over his skin… His hand shifted from around her, and his fingertips combed through her golden tresses, slowly stroking her hair. He felt her smile against his cheek, before she leaned closer, rubbing her lips against his ear.

"I love you, Roy…"

He loved the way she said his name.

"I love you too, Riza."

Roy continued to stroke her hair until she had fallen asleep. His thoughts had started up again, changing from worry about what would happen tomorrow, to satisfaction of what had just taken place. He knew that this wasn't a one-time thing… It was just another reason for him to make it to the top. For her… For them.

He kissed her temple softly, smiling when he heard her sigh and felt her snuggle closer to him. His hand drew away from her hair, and came to rest on her waist. He sighed, eyes closing, as he recalled how the evening had started. Yes, he would gladly believe that Riza Hawkeye loved him with every fiber of her being. He would also believe that he loved her just as much, if not more, as she loved him. He had loved her all along, and it was because of this that he knew that she would always be his one and only love.

His eyes closed, and he relaxed, slowly drifting off into sleep.

* * *

**Yeah. That sucked. Sorry if it wasn't explicit enough for you guys. Detailed sex will come later in later chapters. **

**Thanks for reading my fic this far, guys. I really appreciate it.**

**Later.**

**-Bryan**


	7. Sound of Silence

**AN: **

**Hey guys. It's been a while, so I'd like to apologize. School is finally over so I have time to continue writing the story. Thanks for all of the reviews I got earlier. I really appreciate them.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, or any of its characters.

* * *

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**Back to The East

* * *

**

**Chapter Seven: Sound of Silence**

The sound of his breathing was persistent and soothing; it was the first thing that she heard when she awoke. Her eyelids fluttered open, and her gaze shifted to the sleeping man next to her. She couldn't help but smile as she watched his frame rise and fall with his breathing. Slowly, she turned over on her side and scooted closer to him. Her free arm slid around him as her chest pressed against his back. Her fingertips entwined into the dark locks and brushed it back. Leaning forward, her lips pressed against his temple, kissing him softly.

Roy's breathing paused for a moment before he took a deep breath. His muscles tensed and his eyes opened for a few seconds, before closing. Quietly, he sighed and allowed his frame to relax. His gaze shifted back towards Riza and his lips shifted into a soft smile. A moment later he turned over to face her.

Her grasp relaxed to compensate him, and when he had finally settled down, she tightened her grip, holding him close. She smiled when she felt his lips press against her forehead and she sighed quietly. She felt his arms slide around her, embracing her.

They stayed like that for some time, saying nothing. The sound of silence resonated throughout the room, but even though they didn't say a word, one would be surprised to know how similar their thoughts really were.

What now? How could they continue this relationship, now that they had crossed the line? No one could find out… They both knew what would happen if they were caught. They would both be demoted, for sure. _If _they weren't discharged, both of them would probably end up on opposites sides of the country, unable to communicate with each other. Both of them knew that in order for this to work, the rules had to be changed. And _both_ of them knew what had to happen so that it could change.

Roy was the first one to shift from their position. He lowered his head and kissed her bare shoulder. Eventually, he pushed her onto her back and slid over her. He could help but smirk as he recalled last night, and he chuckled softly against her skin. He felt her fingertips slide into his hair, stroking softly.

"What's so funny?"

His gaze rose, but he continued to kiss, leaving a trail down to her chest.

"I'm thinking about last night."

She smiled, but rolled her eyes. Sighing softly, she leaned her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes. Her features shifted into a soft frown. His kissing did not cease, however.

"What are we going to do, Roy?"

"You know exactly what I'm going to do. It just requires patience, Riza. That can't be too hard, can it? We've waited this long."

Riza sighed. "We weren't having sex all that time, either. I don't think you'll be able to control yourself from this point forward, now that we've crossed the line."

He 'tsked' softly, and raised his head. "Are you trying to say that I have no self control, Riza?"

She chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss him. "That's _exactly_ what I'm saying."

He just laughed and kissed her back.

* * *

The next couple of days were uneventful. In all truth, one could call it boring. The nights, however, played more to Roy's liking. Thanks to the door that connected between his and Riza's rooms, they could go in and out of each other's rooms without suspicion.

He didn't know exactly how many times they had made love. He knew that they shouldn't go so fast, but Roy felt that he was obliged to make up the decade that they had to lie to each other about their feelings. Besides, she wasn't complaining.

During the day, they acted like they normally did. They ate with the staff, and went along with whatever the guys had planned for them that day. After dinner, they each left at a different time. As soon as both of them were at their rooms, one of them would casually knock on the door joining the rooms.

The nights were quite enjoyable. The majority of the time they simply talked. It was strange, almost, to be able to tell each other what they had always wanted to tell each other. To talk freely, without being judged for whatever they said. To finally be able to touch each other, without hesitation, whether it was a soft caress on the arm, or a kiss on the lips. To finally be able to say "I love you" out loud, instead of in silence. It was a strange and wonderful thing.

* * *

Then the last day came where they had to leave. They were to board the train at noon, so they had their bags packed and ready in the morning. They all decided to invite Armstrong out to breakfast with them, along with a few other friends they had made during their last stay at the East Headquarters.

After breakfast was over, Armstrong asked Roy to join him for a walk. Happy to oblige, Roy agreed and the two left the restaurant and headed off towards the local park. Their conversation was composed of small talk until they reached the gravel pathway that led to the hiking trail. Once away from prying eyes and attentive ears, Armstrong brought up the real reason he had wanted to speak to Roy.

"So are you still going to try and become Fuhrer, sir?"

Roy was quiet for a few moments. His gaze shifted to Armstrong, who was staring silently back at him. Sighing, he nodded.

"I'm going to try. I can't move too fast, though. I don't want to spring it on the new government after just being promoted. I need to talk to some people first. If I'm the one to suggest it, they might get suspicious…"

Armstrong grunted in agreement. His azure gaze had remained solemnly ahead of him for Roy's statement, but now his glance shifted towards Roy. His steps slowed, before coming to a complete stop. Roy stopped shortly after. Turning, his brow rose curiously. Armstrong looked around before he spoke, making sure no one was near enough to hear their conversation.

"I believe I can help. You can count on me to take care of it. I already have someone in mind."

Armstrong turned towards him, right hand rising to give a sharp salute.

"I look forward to the day when I fan finally call you Fuhrer, sir."

Mustang could only smile.

* * *

The train's whistle split the soft murmurs that echoed from the inside of the train. Mustang's gaze swiveled around towards the trains, watching as multiple soldiers were ushered into the cars. He turned back around to face General Grumman.

"I appreciate everything you're doing for you sir. If it works, I'll be sure to throw in a good word for your retirement. Not to say that you need it, _General_."

Roy chuckled softly, and Grumman laughed along with him before stretching out his hand. Roy grasped it firmly, and shook.

"Well thank you, Mustang. All I can say now is good luck…and, thank you."

Frowning, Roy's lips parted in confusion. Before he could ask why he was thanking him, he heard his name being called. Turning, he caught the sight of Riza's face peering through the front car of the train. He turned back to find that Grumman was smiling at him. He nodded slightly in return.

"You're welcome, sir."

Turning, he strode towards the train and got on. He made his way past the entrance, down the hall, and into the compartment he had shared with Riza previously. Sliding the door open, he stepped in, took off his coat, and then slid it shut.

Her hair was down again. He smiled at her. His hand pressed against the wall as the train lurched into start, and he frowned lightly when she laughed at him. Stepping forward, he leaned down, his hand brushing a stray strand from her eyes. He shifted a bit closer to kiss her, but she drew away. Frowning, he straightened.

She sighed. "Not now, Roy. Be patient."

Discouraged, he flopped onto his seat, grumbling quietly to himself.

And the day wore on.

* * *

The sound of her breathing was quiet, despite their previous actions. He sighed softly at the feeling of her fingertips tracing over his skin. Gently, he kissed her neck, and he felt her take a deep breath. He groaned quietly and buried his head between her neck and shoulder. She smiled and brushed his hair, her fingertips twining through the dark tresses. Stroking his hair, she shifted closer against him.

This would probably be the last time they could do this in a while. Both of them knew this. But despite this, both wanted to deny this fact. Both wanted to this night, this train ride, to last… But both of them knew that it wouldn't.

He felt the tears well up inside. How long had it been since he had felt the urge to cry? He remembered. He remembered the night, during his recovery, when he had wanted to go to the bathroom without having her help him… He had crept as quietly as he could through the hallway, only to stumble and fall in the dark. And he had felt ashamed when she had rushed to his side, scolding him for not waking her to help him. He had felt like he had failed himself, like he was no longer useful, like nothing he did mattered because he was too…_weak_ to do it.

He hated how helpless he had felt then, much like he felt now. There was nothing they could do, but be patient and wait. There was nothing. He shuddered in her arms, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him, as if knowing what he was thinking…

"It's going to be alright, Roy. I promise."

And he trusted her.

The only thing left was the resonating sound of silence.

* * *

**Hope you all enjoyed. I'd appreciate reviews.**

**-Bryan**


	8. Then and Now

**AN: **

**I'd like to thank you guys for all of the great reviews I've been getting. I really appreciate them.**

**Because of the new FMA series that has come out, "Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood," I think I'll start on a few more drabbles. I haven't written any in a while and I kind of miss them. That, or I'll do a small story that skips around like **_**Stone Wall**_**.**

**Anyone interested in the new series should check it out. It's supposed to be based more on the manga. The English dubbed version hasn't come out yet, but there are English subtitles. Hopefully the Royai fans(myself included) will get some closure and maybe even a likeable ending! :)**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the new addition.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its characters.

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**Back to The East

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**

**Chapter Eight: Then and Now**

Roy Mustang was a simple man. Things were always the same.

He would get up, go to work, come home, eat, and go to bed. Then he would get up the next day and do the whole thing over again. Weekends were a combination of stupid dates, shallow girls, and a trip to the local bar.

Life was very simple then.

* * *

It was May 19th. Five months had passed since the promotion, and now early summer was approaching. Central was changing rapidly. Offices changed, new staffs were made, and old friends said goodbye. Orders were given and soldiers were shipped out and brought in. Families with military members were packed up and moved to other military bases. Five months seemed like a long time, but it seemed like just yesterday that he was in the hotel room with her…

A sigh escaped him and his hand rose to brush through the dark tresses. He leaned back in his chair, arms rising and hands lacing behind his head to stretch. Through the cracked window, the ringing chimes of the clock tower started. Once…twice… a third time. It rang until it hit the five before stopping. Roy's arms lowered and he looked around. Quitting time.

He rose, gathered his things, and took his paperwork with. The door was shut with a snap and he turned around to lock it. After he was done, he walked down the hallway and turned his paper into the woman at the main desk. Soon enough, he had exited the double doors and was making his way down the center of the courtyard.

His actions were mechanical; he had been doing the exact same thing for the past five months. Get off work, walk through town, go back to his flat. Find something edible, eat… It was the same old stuff. If he was up to it, he would go to the bar for a drink. He knew, however, that word would get back to Riza… He had already gotten several angry phone calls about that.

All of this had become so stressful because they had both been so busy with work that they hadn't been able to see each other. Both of them knew that it was risky to spend too much time together outside of work. But despite this, they couldn't even see each other in the office because of the new changes.

Following the fall of Bradley, Hakuro had been placed under temporary surveillance. Several investigations followed to make sure that he wasn't working with the homunculi. Shortly following the end of the investigation, he was found innocent and was allowed to keep his previous position as General.

After all of the promotions, room had to be made for all of the new ranks. The government council thought it best to break up the number of officers in each headquarters. Because of this, many previous staffs had been split up and traded off. Roy's team was lucky; they all had been able to remain in Central.

However, they had been broken up and placed under different higher-ups, all except Roy and Riza. Riza had been fortunate enough to be placed in charge of her own staff. Roy, however, being a General, had to work by himself. All of this was done under the direct command of General Hakuro. Backed by other Generals who agreed with Hakuro, Roy was forced to allow it.

So, for the past five months they hadn't been able to get together. It was frustrating. Roy knew that after what had happened during the promotion getaway, their relationship had reached a crucial point. They were supposed to be spending time together, doing on dates, talking about their future…

He was surprised when he found himself at the front door of his flat. Had he really been thinking for that long? He let himself in and put his things down. He undressed and showered. Afterwards, he changed into jeans and a t shirt. Dinner was simple: a bologna sandwich.

An hour passed of sitting on his couch and listening to the radio while drinking scotch. He went to his closet, threw on a light jacket and put on his shoes. He locked his door without a backward glance. Despite his half-drunken stature, he knew exactly where he was going. He had walked by her place numerous times during the past five months, so it was only natural that he know the way quite well.

This time, however, he marched straight up the stairs to the small apartment complex and went in. He filed up the stairs to the second floor and walked down to room 13. His hand rose, fisting slightly, and he paused for a moment… Then, he rapped softly on the door.

The muffled sound of yelping could be heard from the other side and Roy smiled lightly to himself. He hadn't seen Hayate in quite a while. He wouldn't be surprised if the dog had forgotten him. Then, he heard her voice softly beyond the door, telling the pup to hush. The sound of the deadbolt sliding back came next and the door cracked just two inches before the chain latch caught it. His gaze found hers instantly.

"…Sir, what are you doing here?"

Always so formal… He leaned forward against the door, one arm resting above his head. He exhaled softly, his features twisted into a frown.

"Riza, I had to see you. Please…"

"No, Roy. Don't do this. You need to go home."

He shifted impatiently. His free hand slid between the crack, grabbing onto the door. He looked at her, his eyes pleading.

"Riza, please. Just for a while."

She stared at him for what seemed like forever. He was lost in her amber gaze, wishing, hoping that she would let him in. It had been so long since he had been able to embrace her. He had _kissed_ her, _tasted_ her, _felt_ her… It had taken nearly a decade and now that he had had her, he wasn't going to give her up. And he knew she knew that.

Slowly, she sighed and nodded. He drew away and she closed the door. The scraping of the chain latch echoed in the empty hallway and then the door opened again. He slid in and she shut and locked the door behind him.

They stared at each other for a few moments. Her hair was down again. He loved it when it was… He leaned forward, his fingertips sliding through the golden strands, lowering to her cheek. He cupped it and moved closer, his lips capturing hers in a soft kiss. Her arms wrapped around him beneath his jacket. The kiss deepened before they broke away for air. They stood there like that, embracing each other…

Why was this so hard? Why was it against the rules for them to be together? Love was love… It wasn't fair. They had been through so much. They had sacrificed themselves for their country, for their people, for everything and everyone they loved… They had fought for each other. And after everything, at the end of the day, it was still wrong. Their relationship was still considered forbidden. It wasn't fair.

Somehow, they ended up on her bed. She was whispering in his ear, her hands gently running through his hair. Shifting, Riza kissed his temple and sighed quietly. They stayed like that, holding each other as if they were afraid that if they let go, they would lose each other forever.

How long had he stayed there? An hour? Two? He wasn't sure. She roused him, stroking his cheek with her fingertips.

"Roy… It's time for you to leave."

He frowned. Leave? But he didn't want to. He liked this, being with her. It wasn't fair.

"But… I don't want to, Riza. Let me stay. Please."

She sighed and shook her head softly.

"No, Roy. You need to leave. We can't do this. Not now. Not when we're so close. Just a little while longer, Roy. We'll start the plan soon. General Grumman's told me that it's almost time. You just have to be patient. _We _have to be patient."

"I don't want to be," he growled, brows shifting into a frown. "I want to be with you _now_, Riza! I need you. I want you."

"No, Roy. Get up. I'm serious, Roy… You need to leave. Okay? You can stop by my office and see me sometime, but you can't stay here. It's too risky. I'm sorry, Roy…"

Before he knew it, the door closed in his face. He stared at the white door, the plastic silver numbers 1 and 3. Frowning, his gaze narrowed. Hands fisted lightly before he turned around and strode swiftly down the stairs and out the door to the apartment building.

The brisk night air was a warm welcome. His head was swimming. How much longer would he have to put up with this? All he wanted was to be with her… He allowed himself to relax, his footsteps slowing their pace.

Love was patient… Love was kind.

It wasn't fair to her for him to act this way. She was going through the same thing. If anything, she was stronger than he was. Faintly, he smiled. What would he do without her?

Sighing, he cast one glance back towards her apartment building before continuing onward to his own flat.

* * *

Roy Mustang was a complicated man. Things were never the same.

He would get up, go to work, find out some information about what was going on with the rapidly changing country and try to figure out what he would end up doing to help it. Afterwards, he would go home and go to bed and wake up the next day to find that it had changed again. Then, there was constant struggle he faced without having Riza with him. Then, he would get up the next day and do it all over again. Weekends were a combination of frustration, depression, and occasional drinking.

Life was very complicated now.

* * *

**And there you go. I hope you all like it. More drama and action will happen in the next chapter.**

**I'd appreciate the reviews, guys. Until next time.**

-Bryan 


	9. The Proposal

**AN:**

**I'd like to give an extreme apology to all of my readers for not updating sooner. I would say that I got caught up with some personal things, but I'm not going to give any excuses. I've been lazy, and I haven't been updating like I said I would. So sorry. Feel free to burn me.**

**Anyway, this chapter is sort of based off of one of my previous stories, **_**Zwolf Royai**_**. Therefore, no one can say that I'm copying it. So yeah.**

**Btw's. DON'T FREAK OUT ABOUT THE TITLE****! Roy isn't proposing to Riza! Sorry guys. :( In due time, though.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or any of its characters.

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**Back to The East

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**

**Chapter Nine: The Proposal**

"_If you consider the impressive record Colonel Mustang has compiled, it's clear that he's an excellent soldier who has been loyal and faithful to the military. However, I would be interested to know the reason why you called off the search of the Elric brothers." The Fuhrer's calm tone echoed throughout the room, and Roy rose from his bow._

"_The Elrics were on their way to their home town in the East, but changed direction before making contact with our squadron. Now it seems that they've redirected and are headed straight North."_

"_North… To Drachma," one of the Generals muttered._

_Hakuro frowned, "I see… So, they have connections with that tribe of barbarians!"_

_Mustang pressed forward, unheeded. "Major Armstrong's tactical unit is searching for the brothers up North as we speak. And now… I've heard some other interesting information that I'd like to take up with the council."_

_Mustang paused for a moment, and a few seconds later, the Fuhrer spoke._

"_Interesting information… Perhaps you gentlemen would excuse us for a moment."_

_His jaw tightened, and he took a step forward, fist clenched. _

"_Not yet. You see, the information concerns your secretary, Ms. Douglas."_

"_Just what are you implying, exactly," one of the men shouted._

_The Fuhrer spoke up, his tone thoughtful, "It's Ms. Douglas day off today. I hope she's alright…"_

"_There are serious doubts about her military record. And it has now been suggested that she was an accomplice in the recent murder of Brigadier General Hughes."_

_Then, General Grumman spoke. "Oh! My goodness that is quite an accusation."_

_The light temporarily blinded him when the Fuhrer drew back the drapes of the room. Roy turned, dark gaze set in a glare as he locked onto Bradley's face. The Fuhrer returned it with his own menacing stare, and it was with a cool bluff that Roy exited the room._

_She was waiting for him. She was perturbed to see the thin layer of perspiration that coated his lightly tanned skin. However, she was even more surprised at the arrogant smirk that was plastered onto his face. Then, she realized that Roy Mustang had gotten exactly what he had wanted._

It was the same room that he had been standing in, and perhaps the same spot. The light from the window poured in and the cool summer breeze drifted passed him. Was it August already? Time had moved more swiftly than anticipated, and it seemed like just yesterday that he was on the train, going back to the East for his promotion.

That's not to say it hadn't been hard. Concentration without Riza had been difficult. However, after realizing how childish he had been his last trip to her apartment, he made sure to keep himself in check. Because of this, he had spent more of his time pursuing tasks that would benefit more of the soldiers. There had been a fall in maintenance work recently, such as faulty power lines, broken air conditioning units, and run down flats. He also convinced the council to provide more benefits and holidays for the soldiers and government service workers.

His reputation preceded him when it came to suggesting ideas. And it was because of this that he was sure about what he would be doing today…

"I'm sure he's around here somewhere, Sir."

"Of course, of course. I'm not expecting anything, though. After all, General Mustang is a busy man…"

Roy turned at the echoing sound of gruff chuckling, following by, "Now and then…"

The footsteps emanating from the hallway grew closure and closure, but Mustang was already quite aware of who it was that was nearing the room. A moment later, General Grumman and Riza turned the corner. Striding forward, smiling all the while, Roy met the elder General with a firm handshake.

"I'm glad you could be here, Sir. I'm sure you'll approve of what we have planned for today."

Grumman chuckled once more, the light shining off of his round spectacles. "I'm sure I will, Mustang. And I've made sure to throw in a good word with some of the other Generals attending today's session."

"Is that you, Grumman? It's been ages!" The sound of Hakuro's obnoxious, booming voice resonated from the other side of the room, and Grumman frowned slightly, knowing that Hakuro couldn't see him from his current angle… Sighing, he put on a fake smile, and stepped away from Roy to greet the man.

Roy turned his attention to Riza, whose gaze was trailing after her grandfather. His lips shifted into a smirk as he noted her begin to glare. Gently, he grasped her shoulder and turned her around towards the door and began to walk with her.

"So you're really going to do this, Sir?" Her words were quiet, and she glanced towards him.

His hands slid into his pockets as they exited the room, and he walked a few steps down the hall before coming to a stop. Sighing, he leaned against the wall, dark eyes lifting towards the windows.

"Yeah… It has to be like this. It'll seem like they don't have a choice if we do it any other way. And then everyone will view it like it was before _he_ was elected…"

"Yes, that is true," Riza said, turning to face him.

She sighed softly and her gaze swept over him briefly. He chuckled when he noticed, and she cleared her throat lightly, eyes quickly averting from him. His head turned behind him to make sure that the hallway was clear. Then, he glanced down the opposite direction. Slowly, he slid closer to her, leaning in dangerously. His forehead brushed hers, and she frowned nervously.

"I've missed you, Riza…," he whispered.

"I know, Roy. So have I," she said, leaning away from him. She crossed her arms, shifting nervously. Her amber gaze darted to and from his face, as if constantly on the watch for any unwanted eyes. Sighing, he dropped his gaze.

"Well, the rest of them should be here soon. Did you want to come? You know I could pull some strings…"

"That would be nice. You know I like watching you talk…" She smiled after this, and Roy smirked in response.

"Consider it done. I'll see you later."

"Very well, Sir."

Her right arm rose to give him a crisp salute. Then, she turned and strode off down the hallway. He turned to watch her, gaze lingering slightly below the end of the woman's uniform jacket. Inwardly chuckling, the man straightened when he saw more officers entering the building.

After some quick handshakes and nods, Mustang followed some of them into the room.

The meeting was about to begin.

* * *

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Central Headquarters. As many of you already know, I am the Chief Executive of the Government Council, Mr. Anderson. You have all been called to today's meeting to discuss potential problems and outcomes, as well as plausible solutions to solve these difficulties. The Council and I have already discussed several of these issues and numerous solutions, and we will be examining them today. Your opinions are crucial at this point and are the determining factor for the future policies that will go into effect in our country. However, if any of you have any new ideas that have not been discussed, feel free to suggest them..."

Mr. Anderson turned the floor over to another member of the Government Council, and the meeting was under way.

The topics ranged from new irrigation systems and better power sources to the relationships between their neighboring countries. Around noon, the meeting was released for an hour-long lunch break. Afterwards, they all returned to continue to lengthy list of topics.

In all truth, it was long and boring. A new issue was brought up, then the possible outcomes, and then previously suggested solutions. Following that, the floor would be opened to any opinions or any other resolutions that hadn't been previously established. If so, it would be debated upon. If not, then the said suggestions were debated and then voted upon.

The chimes of the large clock tower signaled the afternoon setting in. Its echoing gong broke the hush in the room four times before coming to a stop. Nearly every head seemed to turn towards Mr. Hill, their current speaker.

In response, he shuffled the finished stack of note cards in his hands and cleared his throat.

"Yes, well… Now that all of the topics have been covered and our decisions have been recorded," he started, casting a glance towards a man in the corner who was writing down Hill's every word. "Is there anyone who wishes to discuss a topic that has not been addressed?"

Silence… The tension was unbearable. Who was going to say something? What _else_ could possibly be discussed that hadn't been already?

Mr. Hill's gaze shifted around the room, before nodding. His lips parted, clearing his throat once more. And right before he was about to speak…

"I believe I have something that needs to be discussed, Mr. Hill…"

Roy couldn't help but smirk at the sound of groans that escaped almost half of the room. He rose, taking casually slow steps around the long table. He neared Mr. Hill, and nodded lightly, as if signaling him to go and sit down. He did so.

Turning, Mustang's dark eyes shifted over each and every face. Then, he spoke.

"As many of you know, the fall of Bradley left our country shocked. Fortunately, we can rest easily in knowing that the few honorable men who were elected into the Government Council so soon will do the best that they can for Amestris. However, this leaves the position of the Fuhrer unoccupied. Now, some of you may have come to the conclusion that the Fuhrer's position is no longer needed, now that we have the Government Council. I beg to differ…"

"Although relations with our neighboring countries are currently stable, it would be prudent for us to forge and strengthen alliances with these neighbors. After such a dramatic fall in power, alliances will prove vital for the future of Amestris. Historically, the Fuhrer has played a crucial role in securing such diplomatic relations, among other duties. The position of Fuhrer—tyrannical though it was—was one of great influence. Today, however, all legislative and executive power has been handed over to the Government Council."

Mustang paused here, his gaze traveling towards the Council. Mr. Anderson, as well as the rest of the council, was staring intently at him, as if hanging onto his every word.

"Did the Fuhrer overstep his boundaries by using his rank to cover up his intentions? Yes. Could the position's powers have been used more sufficiently to aid our nation? Yes. So why get rid of it? What would happen if, _God_ forbid, sometime in the future, a group of men with intentions much like the Fuhrer's, were elected into the Government Council?"

"Just what are you suggesting, Mustang," Hakuro blurted loudly, his features twisting into a frown.

"I'm _suggesting_ that we re-establish the position of Fuhrer and amend its powers. This way, any corruption in either body will be prevented. And, if that isn't enough, we can make some adjustments with the rules. It will all need to be worked out… "

Hakuro rose swiftly from his chair, the wooden legs scraping harshly on the floor. Many of the people in the room jumped while others winced.

"And who will be the Fuhrer, Mustang? You?! You just expect us to choose you because you brought him down, and you're the perfect hero that Amestris needs?"

Mustang's gaze narrowed and he turned to give a cold stare towards Hakuro.

"Actually, I was going to suggest that we have an election… To make it fair. And those running will be nominated."

The room fell silent. Hakuro stared at Mustang for a few seconds longer, before slowly sitting down, muttering quietly to himself.

"Well," Mr. Anderson breathed, looking back towards Roy. "Considering it's late in the evening and many of us are tired, I believe we should take a vote to see if we should debate this matter any further. All of those in favor, stand please."

Many of the Government Council, along with Mr. Hill and Mr. Anderson, rose to their feet. General Grumman was among the first of the military officers to stand. When the sound of moving chair had settled, Hakuro and the remainder of his followers, which only consisted of one fourth of the room, were left seated.

"Very well then. We shall look into this idea very soon. Thank you all for joining us today and have a good evening."

Mustang remained standing as many of the officers and council rose and exited. Roy exchanged a few words with Grumman before he left the room. Riza remained with Roy, but not close enough to make it seem as such.

Cautiously, Mustang strode across the room to his chair, where he retrieved his jacket. It was obvious to see that Hakuro was staring him down, even in his peripheral vision. The sound of footsteps grew more faint when he shrugged it back on and finally turned to face Hakuro, who was on the other side of the table. Roy's dark eyes met his cold stare.

"I'm onto you, Mustang. You think this is a game? It's not. And I've had enough of your little hero act."

Sighing, Mustang shook his head.

"I'm guessing I should take that as, 'May the best man win'?"

The infamous Mustang smirk slid across his features, and he pulled lightly at the lapels of his jacket, straightening it.

"Have a wonderful evening, Hakuro. Say hello to your wife for me, if you don't mind."

Hawkeye's footsteps soon joined Roy's as she accompanied him down the hallway.

It was hard not to laugh when they heard the sound of a first hitting a table, followed by a stifled yelp.

* * *

**There. It's done. Thank GOD!**

**Reviews would be awesome, even though I don't really deserve them.**

**Later guys! :D**

**-Bryan**


	10. The Tragedy

**AN: No promises. Just thought I'd start writing again.**

**Side note, time as skipped a few months.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or any of its characters.**

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**Back to The East**

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**Chapter Ten: The Tragedy**

Over the rush of the train's movement, his wife's voice sounded.

"Charles, sit down!"

Hakuro's grey eyebrows pulled together in a scowl as he peered over the morning newspaper. He caught his son's gaze, who complied with his mother's orders almost instantly and backed away from the window to sit down. Settling next to his younger sister, he sighed.

They were on their way back from their week long vacation in South City, where he owned a private estate. Anxious though he was to begin his campaign for Fuhrer, he knew that the recent events that had occurred had taken a toll on both he and his family.

"Charles, if I have to tell you one more time!"

The boy, restless from the long ride, was once again standing up, his gaze set on the nearing city.

Sighing, Hakuro put the newspaper down.

"Let him go, dear… He's just anxious."

All four of them turned at the sound of a knock. The compartment door slid open, and a young woman popped her head in.

"Excuse me for interrupting, General, but the conductor wanted me to inform you that we will be arriving at Central City Station in approximately five minutes. Is there anything I can do for you beforehand?"

The General glanced at his wife and kids before he turned back to the woman.

"No thank you. I think we're all set."

"Alright, sir. Have a good afternoon."

The door slid shut, and Hakuro rose to his feet. Stretching, he moved towards the window, watching the buildings fly by.

The train began to slow as it snaked its way through the city towards the station. Within a few short minutes, it finally came to a stop and the passengers began to file out. Hakuro and his family were one of the first off the train. Soldiers were waiting on them, the black military cars nearby.

"The luggage is in section A, car 9," Hakuro told one of them. Immediately, two soldiers made their way towards the luggage car.

"Papa," his daughter said, tugging on his coat sleeve, "How long until we get home."

"Only a short while, honey," he said, his hand lowering so that she could grab a hold of it.

Accompanied by a corporal, the family made their way through the sea of people towards the black cars.

Then, the shots rang out.

* * *

"You shouldn't be here," she mumbled quietly.

The door shut with a soft "thud" and he strode forward, his wet boots heavy on the hardwood floors. The hallway was dim from the lack of light from the window but his presence seemed to make it gloomier.

She stared at him from across the room, unblinking.

"Roy?"

Weary, he looked up, blinking several times as if he had trouble keeping his eyes open.

She rose to her feet, her socks silent against the floor. Nearing him, she became aware of the smell of cold, noted the glistening flakes of snow as they melted into droplets of water. She frowned at his hair, damp and cold and plastered to his face.

Sighing, she stepped closer and began to pull off the black overcoat. She tossed it on the coat rack and began to work on the brass buttons of his labels. His hand rose up to catch hers.

She looked up at him in surprise.

"I love you," he whispered quietly, an unfamiliar emotion stirring in the depths of his dark eyes.

Riza stared at him for a few moments before she smiled. Her eyes lowered and she pulled her hand away from his.

"So do I, Roy… Now let's get you out of these wet clothes, okay?"

She undressed him piece by piece. As soon as she was done, she led him into her bedroom to gather clothes that he had intentionally left at her flat. After he was dressed, she left him to go make tea.

When she returned, she found him sprawled out on her bed, his eyes on the ceiling.

She placed the two cups of warm tea on the bedside table and sat down next to him.

"What is it, Roy?"

His chest rose and his stomach drew in before he let out a long breath.

"I think I've started to doubt myself. I thought I was ready, but… Who am I to lead a country?"

Riza frowned. After the staff meeting those few months ago, Roy had been working around the clock since then to determine what rights would be given to the new position. Physically, Roy had seemed fine, but she knew that he was mentally exhausted.

"I just keep thinking, these rights could end up being someone else's. Maybe the soldiers don't want me. Maybe…they can't forgive me."

Her frown shifted into an expression of sorrow.

"You can't doubt yourself after you've come this far, Roy. I can forgive you. There's no reason they shouldn't be able to."

He smiled weakly at her comment before closing his eyes. No longer wishing to stay on the topic, he changed the subject.

"There were three murders at the train station today."

Her brow rose slightly. She had heard that there was an accident at the train station, but nothing about murders.

"Were you called to the scene?"

He nodded and his eyelids opened.

"Hakuro's wife and children are dead. They were all shot to death… The daughter in the head, the son in the chest and the mother in the back. We searched everywhere. We couldn't find anything. We have a good idea where the shooter was, but they didn't leave a trace. Witnesses say they didn't really see anything."

Riza was quiet. That was so odd. Hakuro had made a few enemies in his days, including Roy, but he had never done anything enough to deserve his family's murder. Roy's voice caught her attention.

"He's devastated. The other higher ups are thinking about making him take a break. I don't know what's going to happen."

She curled up on the bed beside him. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close.

That was something she was worried about. How many enemies had Roy made in his past twenty some years of military service? If someone had something against Hakuro enough to kill his family…

She could only imagine what might happen to Roy.

* * *

"We have gathered here today to mourn the loss of three very special people…"

The pastor's voice droned on through the drizzle and the swarm of black umbrellas. Thunder rumbled from above, and the ground trembled; the soft and spastic taps of water hitting the three coffins resonated through the quiet hush of the crowd.

Roy was gazing forward, unblinkingly, seeing but not really seeing. He was attempting to recall of all of his allies at all of the military camps distributed throughout Amestris. He would need them when the time came… Goosebumps rose underneath the black overcoat. There was more than one reason he liked being the Flame Alchemist.

He wasn't nearly as cold as the hard bodies in the coffins, however, he thought; he watched the trio slowly lower into the ground.

Hakuro was standing alone. Whether or not he had other family members, Roy wasn't sure. If he had, none of them had shown up. How sad…

People began forward, dropping flowers they had brought with them before finding their way to their cars. Military personnel gave their regards, shook hands with him, patted him on the shoulder, nodded solemnly, and left.

Three lives… Gone. Just like that. But Roy would know much about taking lives, wouldn't he?

His jaw tensed and he turned towards his closest friend.

"Come on."

"Where to, sir," Hawkeye asked, her amber gaze catching onto his as he turned around.

"Somewhere warm and dry."

"I thought so," she replied as they strolled towards the black military car.

* * *

'How could this have happened,' Hakuro thought, his face hard.

He heard nothing that the pastor said, saw none of the people surrounding him. He had no one. He was alone.

The coffins lowered into the ground. People began forward, dropping flowers and saying their regards. He saw the military officers walk past him. He was unaware of their hands clapping him on the shoulder and the back. He didn't care to return their salutes.

'They were all I had,' he thought as the dirt, which had begun to melt into a muddy pile, was shoveled over the coffins. The three men shoveling paid no attention to him as he stood there beneath the pouring rain.

The sound of car doors shutting drew his attention and he turned to watch the people as they dispersed across the cemetery. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied two dark figures heading off alone. A flash of blonde beneath the military hat and the familiar obsidian gaze stimulated his thoughts further.

Mustang and Hawkeye.

His gaze narrowed and his fists clenched. Always together… She was his little lap dog, wasn't she?

'What were they doing here', he wondered.

Mustang was also at the train station after the murder. Come to think of it, he had gotten there awfully fast…

What if… Yes. That was it. Mustang must have had something to do with it! After all, he hated Hakuro. He had killed his family just as he had killed the Fuhrer.

He watched the couple get into the car together. The engine started and the wheels began to turn as it sped off down the way out of the cemetery.

He would get his revenge. He would make Mustang pay just as his family had.

Yes. Hakuro wouldn't show the mercy he had to finish off his family. The Flame Alchemist would get a taste of his own medicine.

He would burn alive.

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed it. Sorry I haven't updated in a really long time. **

**Reviews would be appreciated.**

**Thanks,**

**-Bryan**


	11. The Subterfuge

**AN: Hey guys. I thought it was time to update again. Also, don't forget to check out the premiere of FullMetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Saturday, February 13****th**** on Adult Swim.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its characters.**

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**Back to The East**

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**Chapter Eleven: The Subterfuge**

The rain had not stopped; the weather anomaly had been going on for the past week. Citizens were baffled: they had always expected rain during this time of the year, but storms had never lasted this long. Military officials, pressed by concerned scientists, informed the town and its inhabitants to stock up on water and food. Businesses temporarily closed, school was cancelled, and the town was put under a temporary lock down in order to keep the people safe.

Ominous and foreboding, the skies overhead rumbled and flashed, parting to give way to the rain. The cobblestone streets of Central were paved with inches of rippling water. The market had closed down; shelves and kiosks stood bare. Windows were shut, blinds were pulled, and doors were shut tight. The iron gates surrounding the base stood, defiant, yet the luscious, prim grass surrounding Central Headquarters had turned into a blanket of thick mud. The country's flag, which was draped above Headquarters' doors, hung with dead weight. To any non-resident, Central seemed as though it was, and had always been, a ghost town.

A dark figure, sheltered from the pounding rain by a black cloak, glided across the street. The black boots sloshed against the water as the figure hurried through the market before slipping into an ally.

The movements slowed as it rounded the corner, nearing a back door to one of the larger buildings. The door was cracked. Weary, the figure approached it, standing about an inch away from the open door.

"Am I alone," the figure inquired in a hush, attempting to peer inside the pitch-black space.

"No," came the reply.

The door creaked open, revealing a man in his mid thirties, disheveled and unshaven. His cropped, brown hair was sticking up in the back, and his scruffy beard was peppered with gray. His shirt had several stains on in, and his breath mingled with the scent of liquor.

"Come in," he muttered, opening the door wider to allow the mysterious figure access.

The dark figure slipped into the room, and the man closed the door before locking the several deadbolts that layered the side.

It was a small room, lit by a flickering light from above and several candles on table in the corner. An unmade bed stood directly across from the table, and a small dresser adjacent to it. A messy bag with an assortment of clothing lay open on the ground next to the dresser.

"Have a seat," the man said, as he pulled out two of the chairs at the small table.

Both men sat down. The hood of the black cloak was lowered, and the bearded man smiled slightly before speaking.

"It's been a long time, sir."

"Yes, it has, John" the man replied.

"So, what did you have in store for me? I don't know anything more than the basic gist of the assignment. Obviously, you want me to find out what General—"

"No names," the man murmured, his tone hard. "I'm calling this on a 'you owe me'. I want you to figure out what he's planning for the campaign. He's going to stop at nothing, especially after what happened."

"Right. You said undercover the other day. So, were you referring to a fake uniform, or…?"

"I'm setting you up with part time job at a receptionist desk for the officer building. In the afternoons, you'll be an assistant to anyone who needs you. You'll speak formally when in public, but I don't mind behind closed doors."

"Got it… What exactly are you wanting to know?"

The cloaked man sighed. "You know me, John. You know that I wouldn't normally do this. But I have this feeling that he's up to something. Try to get close to him. I don't want to know specifics of his campaign strategy. I don't trust him, and I just want to make sure he's not planning something…"

"Understood. When do we start?"

"Monday, weather forbidding. Don't use your real name. I have your paperwork right here."

The man withdrew a wad of several papers and a small blue booklet. He tossed them on the table and stood up. John rose to see him out.

The unusual man opened the door and drew his hood over his head again. Stepping out into the rain, he turned towards him, staring at him for a few moments.

"Don't get caught. I'm counting on you."

The thunder rolled, and the lightning flashed.

* * *

He blinked several times, before shutting his eyes tightly. Groaning, Roy rolled over and buried his head in his pillow. The sunlight was too bright, the sound of the shower was too loud, and the air was too hot. It was obvious that he had a hangover.

Then, the water shut off. Thank God…

Lamentably, he noted the sound of the door open. It creaked long and loud. He hissed softly into the mattress. When it stopped, he gave a sigh and felt himself relax.

Finally… Quiet. Then, he felt the feeling of lips press against his neck. Hands brushed his side and his shoulder, and he was enveloped in warmth. He inhaled deeply, and her scent filled him. Riza.

"Get up, Roy. The rain stopped. Everyone's going out to see the damage."

He mumbled something under his breath about the headache not stopping, and she sighed softly. Curling up against him, she rested her head against his back and traced her fingers across his sides.

"I knew this was going to happen. You should know better by now, Roy. Why were you drinking last night anyway?"

"Hakuro," came his answers. Slowly, Roy withdrew his head from underneath the pillow. The air was suddenly cooler.

She leaned up and kissed his temple, and then slid off the bed.

"I take it you're going to want breakfast?"

The sound of breakfast drew the attention of Black Hayate, who was lying underneath the bed. Rising excitedly to his feet, he gave a soft whine and began to wag his tail.

Smiling, Riza laughed. "And apparently, someone else wants some, too."

She turned back to Roy, "Come on, Roy. Get up and get ready. Breakfast will be waiting for you when you get done."

"Right," Roy muttered, watching as she left the room. He stayed there for a few more moments, before he gave a defeated groan and got up to shower.

* * *

"They're saying there's a there is a lot of water damage," she said, sipping her tea lightly.

He didn't look up. He was reading the newspaper, taking hesitant bites of food every few moments.

"No one's been hurt. That's good… So work is resuming this morning, I assume?"

"Yes," she answered, her eyes drifting over him. She knew he wouldn't be very happy about that, especially with his hangover.

"Good," he said, setting the paper down and rising to his feet. His arms lifted and his shirt rose up as he stretched. His gaze met hers, and he relaxed. He smiled slightly at the confused expression on her face.

"Don't you usually hate going into work after a night of drinking?"

"Yes," he said, as he made his way towards the bedroom to change into his uniform," But I've had a week of planning for the campaign and a week of not being able to do anything about it."

* * *

"I'll see you at the office," he said, buttoning up his white collared shirt.

"Of course," she replied, as she pulled on her uniform jacket.

He leaned forward and his hands found hers. He kissed her softly on the lips, before he drew away.

"Bye," she said. Grabbing her keys and her messenger bag, she opened the door and exited the room, starting off down the stairs. Roy was left to himself to get ready.

Her eyes swept over the street immediately, as they always had when she exited a building. It was a paranoia that had stuck with her after the war; she couldn't help it.

Across the way, she spied a cloaked figure standing between the two buildings in front of her apartment complex. Her gaze swept up and down the figure, her brows knitting together in a frown.

Her scrutiny didn't go unnoticed, and her footsteps slowed when she saw the figure swiftly turn and start down the ally, out of sight.

She stared for a few more moments, before she turned and quickly hurried towards Central Headquarters.

She had to tell Roy what she saw.

* * *

"General Mustang!"

His footsteps stopped and he turned towards the receptionist desk. A man, standing at the receptionist desk, held a small piece of paper in his hand, outstretched towards Roy.

"Sir, Mr. Wilson needs to speak to you about the touch ups for the position. He wanted me to give you this."

He doubled back to take the piece of paper. His eyes slipped over the new receptionist. Mid-thirties, brown hair, goatee…normal.

"Thanks," he said, nodding slightly.

He turned around and started off to his office. Behind him, he heard the booming voice of Hakuro.

"I believe you're the new assistant I've been expecting? Good! Come with me. I've have several things I'm going to need you to get done for me today."

"Oh, I look forward to it, Sir."

* * *

A knock came at the door, and Roy sighed. He put his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

"Come in."

The door opened and Riza stepped in. She shut the door behind her. Saluting, she smiled.

"Having a good day, Sir?"

He leaned further back and stretched.

"It's going okay… My headache finally went away, so that's always good."

She walked towards him and sat down in the chair in front of the desk. Her gaze traveled to the window, where the sunlight was shining through.

"They've already sent out several patrols to help people with the flooding and water damage. They say everything should be back to normal in a few weeks."

"Good," he said, straightening up. He grabbed his pen and started reading the stack of papers in front of him.

"Sir… Roy," Riza said quietly, shifting slightly in her seat, "I think that you should really consider starting to sleep back over at your place. I saw something today, when I was—"

Another knock suddenly sounded at the door. Roy, who had stopped what he was doing and was intently staring at Riza, looked up, before looking back at her.

"Can this wait? I think this might be important…"

She was quiet for a moment, before nodding. Slowly, she rose and started for the door.

"Come in," Roy said, his tone hardening as he rose.

The door opened, and the receptionist stood in the doorway.

"Excuse me for interrupting, Sir, but I was wondering if you needed anything done? I'm Mr. Carson, the new assistant. I was told that I needed to stop by several offices to let the officers know that I'll be available in the afternoons…"

"Sure," Roy said, motioning for him to come in. "Sit down, please."

He moved around his desk and walked towards Riza. He led her to the door.

"I'll speak to you later, Hawkeye. Have a good afternoon."

She nodded and then saluted him. Returning the salute, he watched her leave. His eyes swiftly scanned the hallway, before turned back to look at the receptionist.

"Alright, Mr. Carson, what do you have for me?"

The door closed with a snap.

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**Thanks for reading and thanks for the reviews. They are definitely appreciated. Until next time.**

**-Bryan**


	12. An Inconvenience

**AN: Another update. I've got a pretty good idea of where I want this story to go. I think that there will be about five or so more chapters. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any if its characters.**

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**Back to The East**

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**Chapter Twelve: An Inconvenience**

The soft ticking of the grandfather clock was growing steadily louder. The words on the page grew blurry, and she sighed. Her amber gaze disappeared behind thin eyelids and her fingertips found the sides of her temples and began to rub slowly. She couldn't concentrate any longer.

The book was cast aside onto the bedside table, sliding against the polished pine.

The clicking of nails on hard wood floors sounded and she watched as Hayate trotted into the room before seating himself dutifully beside her bed. His chocolate brown eyes found hers, and he whimpered softly.

What was she supposed to do? Her hands found her head as she slumped forward, distraught. The cloaked figure had haunted her dreams since she had seen it that morning. Never having gotten the chance to tell Roy about it, she was left to withhold the information, where it had festered in her mind and in her heart. But something else had come with it, something she had not tasted in a long time: fear.

The memories had come back to her as well, the image of her General on the steps of the Fuhrer's mansion, drenched in his own blood. She had not been as close to him then, but at least she had saved him.

Now what? Now, she was closer than she had ever been. She had grown soft and dependant on him, in her mind. What would she have done if she had lost him then? What would she do if she lost him _now_?

She couldn't let her love blind her. She had to remain alert, she had to protect him… The campaign would be here in a matter of weeks.

She felt something press against her leg and she lifted her head to see Hayate on his hind legs, his paw gripping at the blankets. Softly, he whined. Her hand lowered and she tenderly stroked his cheek as her thoughts raced.

She pulled the covers off of her and she stood up from the bed. Her footsteps were quiet as she strode to the bathroom to prepare for their "date".

She knew what she would have to do.

* * *

The cloaked figure stood silently within the shadows. The sun shone brilliantly, despite the thunder. It was a rare day.

"Focus," he thought, and his eyes came to rest on the couple seated near the large window of the restaurant. The waitress came back with their drinks and took their order.

They began talking. The figure drew nearer towards the end of the ally, attempting to see better. His eyes swept back and forth between their lips.

"You…what? What's going on?"

"Sorry, Roy. Right now… good time. Relationship. Election… campaign, two weeks… Touring."

"Assist me."

"I will… personal. Vacation… relax… Fooling around."

"I've…forgotten. Happy that night. Because of you. Campaign… stressful."

He watched the General reach across the table to take her hand. Why would he do that? Unless…

"Please… Do this."

Thunder rumbled again, and he looked up as the drops of rain began to fall. The sun was sill shining…

He turned back towards the couple to find the Captain's eyes on him.

"Shit," he thought as he drew back into the safety of the shadows. Had she seen him? Would she come to investigate? He wanted with baited breath. The General turned his head to where her gaze was. He began to inch backwards, towards his exit. Then, they looked away and the General began speaking again, but at the risk of being seen, he refused to draw closer.

The General seemed upset. His features were hard, desperate almost… She spoke, sympathetic and regretful. Back and forth. She grew exasperated. The waitress came back with their food. He rose, spoke, then put something in her hand and then pulled on his coat. He exited the establishment and took off. He watched the Captain pack up the food and follow.

"Strange," he thought. He would have to be sure to bring that up at their next meeting…

And just as silently as he had arrived, he was gone.

* * *

"You want to _what_?"

Roy's tenor was incredulous, laced with a protective overtone.

Hawkeye's eyes lowered to the cup of tea in her hands. Her expression grew somber at his words. She sipped at her drink vainly.

"What's going on? Did someone say something to you," he said, his voice growing suspicious.

The tables had turned; Roy was usually the one to stand quietly by and reassure the other that the break up was not their fault, but his. Never one to fret over a one-week fling or a one-night stand, he found himself entirely out of his element.

He would never dream of ending this relationship. His hand dropped beneath the table to grip his leg—agitation always stirred up the old wound from the Fuhrer.

"I'm sorry, Roy. I just don't think that right now is a good time to be working on our relationship. You have the election to worry about; your campaign starts in two weeks, and you'll be touring for a month."

His lips pursed slightly.

"Is _that_ what this is about? A campaign? I thought you were going to assist me…"

"I will, Roy. But I'll be assisting you in public, not in bed. It can't be personal. I'm going to be your bodyguard. I'm worried that you'll just think of it as a vacation where we can relax, and it's not. You've sacrificed too much for too long to get here, and I couldn't bare to know that I ruined that for you because we were too busy fooling around."

He stared at her, his expression hard. After a few moments, he relaxed and sighed.

"You think that I've forgotten? Riza, I've been happier since that night than I have been in a long time, and that was because of you. I'll admit that the campaign is going to be stressful, but what kind or campaign isn't?

He reached across the table and took her hand. He began to lace his fingers with hers, but she drew away to grasp her tea with both hands. He frowned.

"Please don't do this," he murmured, his gaze finding hers.

She sighed quietly before she turned to look out of the window. Thunder rumbled outside as fat drops of rain began to fall; despite this, the sun crept in through the window. She saw movement between the two buildings across the cobblestone street. Had that been the cloaked figure she had seen those few days before, or was it just her imagination? Inwardly, she shuddered.

Roy's gaze followed hers to the two buildings. The dark ally stood bare. He turned back.

"Riza… Why are you doing this? Honestly. We've been fine so far. I don't understand why we have to do this now. Everything has been so good. Did I do something wrong?

She turned to him and smiled sadly.

"No, Roy. I just don't think that it's the right time. This relationship is just an inconvenience…"

Roy's jaw tightened.

"No, it's not. How can you even say that? What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Her smiled twisted into a frown.

"I'll still be here for you, Roy. I still want to be your friend."

He stared at her in disbelief. His throat felt so dry, as if his water were the dry sand in Ishbal. He felt his nose prickle, but he held back the oncoming tears. He couldn't let this happen. He had never felt so hopeless, so desperate…

"I don't want that. You know that you don't want that. I need you…"

"Roy, stop it. I wish that you would be mature about this. I'm right here, and I'll still be here. I'm not going anywhere."

He lowered his gaze. His hand shook as he grasped his glass. His mouth watered at the queasy feeling forming in the pit of his stomach, and he took once last sip of his water.

"Here you are! One medium rare steak with mashed potatoes and a grilled chicken salad. Can I do anything else for you this evening?"

The waitress temporarily stunned Roy. He had forgotten about the food that they had ordered just a short while ago.

He rose to his feet, the legs of his chair screeching across the tile floor. His gaze never left hers as he reached into his back pocket to withdraw his wallet.

"Yes. Keep the change," he sad before he pressed the bills into her hand. He grabbed his coat and pulled it on as he strode swiftly out of the restaurant.

Riza called after him, but he ignored her. She watched him step into the pouring rain and disappear down the street. Sighing, she turned back to the waitress.

"I'm really sorry about that. Could I get this all to go, please?"

The waitress eyed her wearily.

"Of course ma'am… I'll be right back."

After putting the food into the styrofoam containers, she too rose to her feet and put her coat on. She exited the restaurant, her eyes trailing off in the direction Roy had gone.

Her gaze snapped back to the two buildings when she recalled the movement. Cautiously, she strode over towards it, peering down past the entrance, then the old trashcans…

A loud bang resonated from the ally as the lid of one of the trashcans clattered to the ground. Frowning, she watched as a scruffy cat leaped out of it and cantered further down the ally. Sighing in anxious paranoia, she turned and started off down the sidewalk.

* * *

**There you go. Hope you enjoyed. Please review.**

**-Bryan**


	13. The Campaign

**AN: Summer. Time to get some work done. For those of you interested, there will be six chapters left. Also, I've decided that this is going to be my last fanfic. Sorry guys.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its characters.**

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**Back to The East**

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**Chapter Thirteen: The Campaign**

The shots echoed through the deserted range, cracking like thunder with every pull of the trigger. She fired without hesitation, eight times before she had to stop and retrieve a new magazine from the large bucket on the side shelf of the single shooter box.

Down the range, the shooting targets, shaped in the form of a well-built man, were riddled with holes, but none of them were anywhere near the target.

The last three shots fractured the silence, and a thin line of smoke snaked its way upwards from the barrel of the gun.

She sighed and placed the gun next to the bucket. Slowly, she leaned against the wall and slid down to the ground. Her fingertips found her hair band and she yanked it out. The golden tresses spilled out, sliding past her shoulders.

How was she supposed to protect Roy when she couldn't even hit a shooting target?

Roy wouldn't talk to her, let alone acknowledge her in the office. She had called him several times at home, but he had yet to answer. She watched him leave the office with Havoc and the others for a guys-night-out-of-debauchery every Thursday and Friday for the two weeks after their break up. Tomorrow, they would be leaving for the start of the campaign.

She leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands. What was she supposed to do? She was just trying to protect him…

The back of her head hit the wall and her gaze rose upwards. She had no idea what would happen, but she knew that she had to talk to Roy soon.

Rising to her feet, she grabbed her gun and the bucket full of empty magazines and headed out of the shooting range.

* * *

"We'd better not be late, damn it!"

The sound of the gas being punched followed the General's statement, and he settled back in his seat before he crossed his arms. Nervously, Hakuro's knee began to bob up and down.

The black military car turned the corner and the tires screeched as they pulled onto the road that led to the train station. Today was the day of their departure to their campaign routes; Mustang and his devious staff was headed to the cowering confines of the liberal North while Hakuro was on his way to the loyal and prestigious Southern Headquarters. From there, they would travel counter-clockwise and would rotate around the country. Once both candidates had delivered speeches to the North, South, Eastern, and Western Headquarters, they would return for the final speech to Central Headquarters.

On the other side of the train platform, he noted similar black military cars already parked, while soldiers helped load baggage onto the cars— of _course_ Mustang was already here.

A whistle split the air and heads turned as two opposing trains pulled into the train station. Hakuro caught a glimpse of Mustang surrounded by a few familiar faces from the military, shaking hands with an earnest look on his face, before the dark locomotive's pulled into the station and blocked the other side of the platform.

Hakuro's jaw clenched as the car came to a stop. Sighing impatiently, he locked eyes with the driver's gaze in the rear view mirror. His temper ignited instantly when he realized that the driver wasn't going to get out and open the door for him.

"You piece of shit! Why the hell aren't you opening my door? I'm going to be the next Fuhrer and you can't even open a damn for me?"

Instantly, the young man snapped into action, struggling fearfully to get out of his seat belt. He shoved his door open and all but ripped the General's door handle off.

Still seething, Hakuro exited the car, and turned to look at the other soldiers that had accompanied him.

"Well, what are you all standing around for? Get my bags and get moving!"

Men dressed in black uniforms leaned out of the cars, and more whistles escaped the steel pipes on the top of the trains.

"All aboard! Hurry now!"

The two groups of soldiers headed into their separate trains. Eager to catch up with the progress Mustang had made, Hakuro stopped a few younger soldiers that were wandering about the station, shook their hands, and told them who he was and what he was running for.

Outside, the conductors were yelling again, "One minute until departure! All aboard!"

Hakuro hurried for the train, a few of his soldiers trailing behind him.

Inside of the train, the Generals had settled down into their first class cars. The steam whistles ripped through the air once more, and the gears and sprockets began to turn as the trains lurched forward in opposite directions. Through the glass windows, the possible future leaders locked eyes as they each headed to their destinations; Hakuro to the South Headquarters and Mustang to the North.

* * *

"No taxes for soldiers and family members of soldiers while on headquarters… All right, Sir. I think I've gotten it all down."

Roy's chest rose as he gave a sigh. His gaze shifted to the man sitting across from him. Unfolding his arms, he reached across the middle of the car, his hand outstretched.

"Let me see it, Jones."

Jones was a short and plump man in his mid-forties with a ruddy complexion. He was Roy's campaign manager, the man in charge of scheduling his speeches with the soldiers and appointments with other Generals at the different headquarters. Hearing Roy's words, he nodded in compliance and handed over the clipboard to him.

Mustang's obsidian gaze swept back and forth across the papers with ease, reading the detailed instructions on what key points to make at each different military base in Amestris. A smirk slid across his features.

"Very nice details, Jones. You've definitely gone far more in depth than my original ideas. They're very good."

Jones chuckled, slightly abashed, "Thank you, General. That means a lot."

Mustang's smirk widened and he laughed quietly to himself.

"You know, Jones, I might have to keep you around when I'm elected Fuhrer. I could use your advice on the speeches that—"

A knock on the car door sounded before it slid back. The blonde hair and amber eyes were all too familiar, and as Roy realized who it was, his gaze slipped back down to the clip board, his features hardening.

"General Mustang, I'm here to inform you that we're an hour away from North Headquarters, Sir."

He could feel her gaze on him, but he didn't look up; instead, he stared at the words on the paper as hard as he could, only letting out a small, "Mmm," to acknowledge that he had heard her.

An uncomfortable silence filled the car. Jones, who had been looking out of the window, turned to look back and forth between them. Finally, Riza spoke.

"Is there anything that I can get for you, Sir?"

"No, thank you. Please leave us," he replied swiftly, still not looking up.

She quietly stared at him, her gaze searching his for any signs of communication or understanding… But she found nothing. Straightening, she saluted, muttering a soft, "Sir," before she backed out and slid the door shut.

Silence once more. Roy's gaze rose to the door before locking onto Jones'.

"…Excuse me for a moment, Jones. I'll be back."

He left the clipboard on his seat when he rose to his feet. He exited the compartment, his gaze snapping towards the left of the train, in the direction that Hawkeye was headed. She was almost at the end of the car when she disappeared into her own private compartment. Closing the door behind him, he strode down the aisle, his thoughts running.

He had to do something about this. She wouldn't leave him alone. He didn't get it; one day, she's breaking up with him and saying their relationship was an inconvenience, and the next she was calling him nonstop and trying to talk to him.

Roy's hands balled into fists and his jaw tightened as he allowed his anger to boil over. Finally, he reached the end of the car, and his hand grasped the door and pulled. However, it didn't budge. She had locked it.

He shook his head, cursing softly under his breath, and his fist rose to knock sharply on the glass and wood door. Just before his knuckles connected with the glass, he heard a soft sob from the other side of the door. He drew back, inhaling sharply in surprise.

Was she… crying?

He frowned and leaned closer to the door, swallowing hard. His senses sharpened and he concentrated as hard as he could, attempting to block out the murmur of other people talking around them and the roar of the engine, the scraping of the metal between the tracks and the train. Above all of the commotion at that moment, he heard her choked sobs.

His hand pressed lightly against the door and his head lowered. His lips parted slightly and he blinked a few times, his thoughts starting up again. She was crying. Crying because he wouldn't talk to her. But it wasn't fair, it was like she wanted him to read her mind and he couldn't. Why did she want to talk to him so badly about the break up when it was already done with?

It wasn't the right time… It was an _inconvenience. _

He let go of the door and took a step backwards. Turning around, he headed back down to his private compartment. As much as he wanted to fix this, Roy knew that she had been right in breaking up with him so that he could focus on the campaign.

However, her persistence in attempting to communicate with him about the break up was a distraction, and in all honesty, he didn't have time to deal with it.

He felt his chest swell with a muted ache that had plagued him since she had spoken those words.

It was over with for now, he thought, and the sooner she realized that, the sooner she would feel better.

* * *

"All right, Hakuro… You can do this," the gray-haired man muttered quietly to himself. He adjusted one of the gold stars on the shoulder tab of his uniform. In the reflection of the mirror, his uniform looked impeccable; the gold stars shone brilliantly in the light of the bathroom, the medals and pins were aligned perfectly, and the blue cloth of the uniform was brand new, its color a stunning, royal blue.

He stared at his reflection, his eyes noting the gray haired that dominated his head, when at one time had been a rich, chocolate brown. His eyes lowered to see the stressful wrinkles on his forehead, then dropped further to meet his own gaze, where he saw the crow's feet and the bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep. His skin was wrinkled around his cheeks and lips, as if he had spent more time frowning than he had smiling.

And then there was his expression… Hard and ruthless and cold, which he had become through his years of military service. He had worked tirelessly since his enlistment as an officer, spending long and hard hours away from his family. And still, he had been denied everything he was promised for his sacrifices at the fall of Bradley. His family had been the only thing left…

Hakuro's fist hit the glass, and cracks split in several different directions from the point of impact. His face, distorted and broken, seemed to mirror his hard façade as it broke…

They were all he had had left. His beautiful and loyal wife, his witty and stubborn son, and his bright and optimistic daughter… They had been snatched away from him, like so many of those promises, and it was all because of that man. That two-faced, manipulative _monster_!

He had to win this, no matter what. It was all he had. And when he attained it… then, he would have his revenge.

A sharp series of knocks at the door drew him out of his enraged stupor, and he whirled around to face it.

"Sir, it's time now. They're waiting for you."

Hakuro straightened, and his chest rose with a shaky sigh. He could do this… He had to.

* * *

The feedback from the microphone rang out as he leaned forward. His gloved hands tightened their grip on the edges of the wooden stand and his gaze swept from face to face over the crowd, which had become oddly quiet compared to what it had been a few moments before. Mustang took a sharp intake of breath before he slowly exhaled. His brow furrowed slightly and his lips parted as he began to speak.

"Before today, I told myself that I wouldn't make this campaign personal… That I would just memorize the script that my campaign manager gave me and hope that it would be enough to win your votes… that my policies and ideals were enough to satisfy the change that you people want in a new leader. But I was wrong, ladies and gentlemen. And I realize now that, in all honesty, you deserve better.

"You don't deserve a two-faced leader who only tells you half of the things that are going on in your country. You don't deserve to have your hard-earned taxes used on the development of weapons or government policies that will only drag our country into more war. And you don't deserve to be told only half of the story when you have every right to know the truth!"

The crowd stirred, murmurs of agreements ringing out. Heads nodded, and some clapped.

"By a show of hands, who knew someone who died during the Ishbal war?"

Nearly a third of the crowd raised their hands. Mustang's jaw tightened, and he straightened slightly.

"And how many knew someone who died in the last "war"?"

Hands rose left and right, and soon, it seemed as if the entire crowd had its hands raised.

Mustang was silent for a moment. He watched as heads turned to note just how many people had their hands raised. And one by one, they began to put their hands down.

"Thank you," he muttered into the microphone.

"I was a young man when I joined the military and became a State Alchemist. I joined because I wanted to help the people of this great country. And it turns out that I ended up doing more damage than good."

Mustang paused for a moment, wanting to choose his words carefully.

"I'm not going to deny that I took lives in Ishbal. Others, like me, did so as well, against their own will and judgment. But the worst part was not that we were being forced to kill, or that we did not know _why_ we were being ordered to do so… The worst part is that people, both the military and the Ishballans, died for _nothing_."

The crowd had begun to murmur softly in agreement once more.

"War is hard. War is unfair and cruel. It can turn boys into men that they did not wish to become. But most of all, war is _unnecessary_. And for the past several decades, this country has been run the same way over and over again. We go, we kill, we conquer. But that has just lead to revolts and riots and unnecessary violence. It doesn't need to be like that, ladies and gentlemen. We have a choice. And I, for one, am tired of fighting for nothing. That's why… if I'm elected as your Fuhrer, I will make sure that our government policies are changed so that negotiations can be made to prevent war. We will establish treaties with all of our neighboring countries and we will open up trade routes so that our economies can prosper.

"And for those of you naysayers… No war means that taxes won't need to be spent on war costs. And without having to worry about that, we can focus more on changing soldier's retirement plans and creating additional benefits for those of you who _have_ served in war. We can finally focus on treating you fine soldiers the way you ought to be treated."

The sound of the crowd had been growing, and now it erupted into cheers and claps of agreement.

"We can change this country, ladies and gentlemen. But just as I have my part, you have yours. And I'm counting on you all to do your part."

* * *

His dark eyes were peering into the very depths of his own soul. Finally… It was over. His speech to the East had been the last on his list. He was sure that he had gained the North's vote, but Hakuro had managed to win over the soldiers in the conservative South and the rapidly modernizing West. The East… Well, Mustang was definitely sure that he had just won the East's vote.

A knock at the door sounded, but he had no interest in answering. After a few moments, another knock sounded, but he remained standing where he was, looking at himself in the mirror. From behind, he heard the doorknob turn as the door was opened.

Of course, he had known who it was all along, and he was only proven right when she strode up quietly behind him. Still, he didn't look away from his own eyes.

"Your speech was well done, Sir…"

"Thank you," he muttered, his chest rising as he sighed. Slowly, he straightened up and after a moment, he was able to tear himself away from his image. He turned to look at her and his expression relaxed. He watched as her eyes slid down his frame, and then back up once more.

A light smile broke her docile façade and her hands found the lapels of his uniform. Gently, she tugged, straightening it.

"You look very good, Sir…"

His hands snapped up and caught hers.

"Thank you, Hawkeye. As do you."

She stared at him for a few moments longer, before she sighed.

"Roy, we need to talk."

He let go of her hands and drew away, retreating to the couch of the hotel room.

"About what, Riza? The inconvenience?"

She strode across the room and sat down next to him. He wouldn't look at her.

"Roy, I wasn't completely honest with you. The reason I told you wasn't the real reason, but I wanted to protect you."

He frowned softly, his eyes shifting to look at her.

"What are you talking about? What happened?"

She was quiet for a few moments before she spoke.

"A few weeks before the campaign started… I left for work one morning, while you were still at my place. I saw someone across the street in a dark coat with a hood, standing there. And when I noticed it, it fled. I don't know who it was. And while we were eating at the restaurant, I could have sworn that I saw it again, in that ally. When I investigated it after you took off, I didn't see anything. I'm worried that it's Hakuro or one of his people. Do you realize what sort of edge he would have in the campaign if he found out about us? It…"

The sound of Roy snickering caused her to pause. Her brows rose out of surprise as she watched him shake his head disappointedly.

"I don't see how this is hardly funny, Roy."

His laughter died and he sighed softly and his smirk shifted into a hardened expression.

"I think I know who it was, Riza. After I found out about Hakuro's family, I knew that it was going to be hard for him… And you know how people get when there's a tragedy close to them. They can become dangerous…unpredictable, and suspicious of everyone around them. And I don't want anything else to happen to anyone if Hakuro decides to have a mental break down."

Roy leaned towards her this time to whisper into her ear.

"I asked an old friend of mine, John Pierce, to come work as an undercover assistant for Hakuro. I told him that I didn't want any information on his campaign because this is a fair race, but that if Hakuro started to say or do suspicious things… Well, then he needs to let someone know as soon as possible."

Riza's eyes widened in surprise at Roy's words. But that still didn't make sense about the person that she had seen.

"But Roy… If he was supposed to be watching Hakuro, why was he watching me?"

Roy leaned back towards the couch, shrugging slightly.

"I think he was just trying to get my attention so that he could tell me what was going on. We've spoken several times already. He did talk to me after the restaurant deal. I guess he saw you and realized that you noticed him and he got scared and disappeared. I told him not to get caught… That was his way of not getting caught."

She relaxed against her seat and sighed quietly, her eyes lowering to the floor. How could she have been so stupid? All of that worry and pain for nothing… If only Roy would had told her.

"I'm surprised you just didn't tell me," Roy said quietly.

She frowned and turned towards him with a cold glare.

"I tried to, Roy. But you never gave me a chance because as soon as I opened my mouth, that Carson fellow barged in and you told me to leave."

Roy's eyes widened as he tried to recall… And then it hit him and he threw his head back and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Riza, that _was_ him. He's the Carson guy."

She was quiet for a while, her thoughts starting up.

"Don't think that this is all my fault," she said, rising to her feet, her gaze finding his, "If you would have told me that what was going on, none of this would had happened."

Roy looked up, his eyes sweeping over her. Slowly, he sighed, nodding.

"You're right… I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"Well, I suppose I should leave you alone then… We do have a long ride back tomorr—"

He cut her off as his arms slid around her from behind. He grasped her gently and turned her around to face him. Then, he kissed her hard and slow, and she melted against him. Then, he drew back, leaving her breathless.

"No. Don't go."

She leaned into him and closed her eyes. She had missed him so much… How many times had she thought about this moment? Her arms wrapped around his waist and she drew him tight against her. She heaved a shaky sigh when she felt his hands begin to rub against her back, comforting her.

"I'm sorry," she muttered softly, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. Her jaw clenched hard and she closed her eyes.

"It's okay, Riza… I understand," he said, drawing away from her.

He pulled off his uniform jacket and un-tucked the white oxford beneath it. After slipping over to his bed, he kicked off his boots and settled back onto the soft mattress. She joined him.

His lips found hers and he kissed her, his arms encircling her frame. His forehead rested against hers and they stayed like that for a while, noses brushing and lips just centimeters apart. Their breath intermingled with one another, slowing as they relaxed, their minds at ease.

After a while, she spoke.

"What's your first amendment going to be, Roy?"

He chuckled softly, moving his head upwards so that he could rest his chin on the top of her head. He squeezed her gently, afraid to let go.

"You know what I'm going to change. I don't want this relationship to be illegal. I'm sorry if I forced this on you, Riza. I didn't want it to be this way."

She wriggled free of his grip enough so that she was able to meet his eyes. She was frowning with a tinge of confusion.

"I know that, Roy; I wouldn't want it like that, either, given the choice," she said quietly, her gaze searching his, "But it's the only thing we have right now, and I would rather be with you and have it be kept a secret than to have nothing at all."

He was quiet, his expression shifting into one of both desperation and sadness, and she leaned into him, her lips finding the soft skin of his neck. She felt his hand loosen the tight bun on the back of her head, and she smiled against him when he undid it and began to run his fingers through her hair.

"I love you," she uttered quietly.

"Me too," he whispered.

"Can we sleep together tonight," she inquired, her tone much like a child unsure of its' parents response, "I've missed you so much."

He smiled, his eyes closing.

"Of course we can. After all… The campaign is almost over. What's the worst that could happen?"

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**Okay. That's all for now. Gonna start working on the next chapter tomorrow. Reviews would be appreciated.**

**-Bryan**


	14. Paving a Future

**It's been almost a year since I've updated, and I don't really have much of an excuse except for my school's hectic schedule got in the way of completing this. But I'm going to finish this story since it is summer again and I have time.**

**I'm not sure if I can keep my previous promise of there being six remaining chapters, but I will try to make the chapters that I do update semi-lengthy. I figure I owe it to you guys, and also because I've received several angry reviews begging for an update. I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its characters**

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**Back to The East**

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**Chapter Fourteen: Paving a Future**

Pierce's frantic steps echoed as he ran as fast as he could down the deserted hallway. His vision was dulled by the darkness and the blur of office doors. He looked up at the approaching sign illustrating simple directions towards destinations—notably the right turn to go to the phone line office.

The sound of a door slamming open a few halls back caught his attention. The low shouts that echoed down the hall sent chills down his back, and he shot faster down the hall and skirted to the right.

The phone line office door was ajar, and he slowed to a fast walk, not wishing to alert those searching for him. His hands pressed the door inward and he whirled around, turning the handle so that the door made no sound as he closed it.

Desperately, his eyes searched for a chair. He gave a ragged smile that lasted an instant when he found one in the corner, and he leapt to grab it and return to the door, pressing the back of the chair snugly beneath the handle of the door.

Silently, Pierce glided over towards the nearest Candlestick phone and picked up the earpiece. His heart thudded rapidly in his head as he closed his eyes tightly to recall the man's number. The memory clicked, and his fingers fumbled with the small, intricate numbers.

The sound of voices drawing nearer made him glance nervously behind him, and he watched dim lights float chaotically over the walls—lanterns belonging to his pursuers. He almost didn't realize that the phone had begun to ring, the dull sound of the ringing tones loud in the silence of his hiding spot.

The dull rings continued, and with a hiss of frustration, Pierce hung the phone up before pulling off the earpiece and dialing again.

"Damnit, Mustang, pick up your fucking phone," he muttered between grit teeth.

Mustang had to know what was going to happen. His career, his campaign, his relationship with that Miss Hawkeye, it was all in jeopardy and he _had _to know before it was too late…

He jumped at the bang that sounded behind him. Turning, he saw a man's arm had crashed through the glass window that held the letters "Phone Line Office," and was blindly grasping at the handle.

Pierce's eyes widened in fear as he slammed the piece down and picked it up again, his hands dialing the memorized numbers as fast as he could. The phone began ringing again, and he turned to glance fearfully at the arm, which had removed the bolstered chair from its position.

The door swung open and Pierce dropped the earpiece, bolting forward towards the first man. A flexed arm drew back and snapped forward, colliding with Pierce's temple and send him spinning backwards onto the ground. The first man rushed forward and bent over Pierce, punching him once more in the face to make sure he was out cold.

The second man entered, his dark and cold gaze swept over the room to find the dangling phone line. He rushed forward and grabbed it just as the ringing stopped and was replaced by a soft click and a tired, masculine voice.

"What time is it…Hello?"

The man's lips parted and his thoughts searched for a cover up.

"Uh…hello, is this Lieutenant Jones?"

The man on the other line paused for a minute and gave an exasperated sigh.

"No, this isn't Jones. Who the fuck are you and why are you calling at three in the morning?"

"Oh, my apologies, sir. Our records must be mistaken. I'll be sure to note our mistake. Once again, sorry for the mix up… Have a good night."

He hung up the earpiece and turned to see his partner standing over the man known as "Carson." His eyes narrowed and he sighed, crossing the room to pick up the lantern.

"What are we going to do with him," his partner muttered, stooping to pick up the unconscious Pierce before he slung him over his shoulder.

"You heard Hakuro. We get rid of him."

* * *

He shook his head and cast a glance around the lonely kitchen of his flat. It was becoming a pain to travel back and forth between his and Riza's resident. Slow but steady footsteps lead him back into his bed, where he collapsed with arms and legs sprawled lazily around him. Obsidian gaze found the ceiling, his thoughts wearily starting up now that he had rudely been awakened…

He had returned from his campaign around Amestris Sunday afternoon, yesterday, and was met with information that the Government Council had decided to add one last event on the campaign list… A debate between Hakuro and Mustang, set to take place on Friday. Then, Central Headquarters would cast their votes and the counting would begin. A day after Central's votes had been counted, each Headquarters could call in and announce their final count, which would all be relayed over Central Headquarters' intercom.

Roy's arms came behind his head and he sighed deeply. He hoped that his campaign strategies had been enough to win over Hakuro's cheap, prideful promises... Uneasy, Roy shifted onto his side to cast a glance at his alarm clock. Only three thirty...

He closed his eye and thought of Riza, sleeping peacefully all the way across town, curled up beneath her warm sheets. He wondered how much longer it would take to finally get that law enacted. How suspicious would he seem if he amended it on his first day in office? Perhaps it would be best to wait... but he couldn't wait until he could finally be able to visit her in her home or take her out to dinner without looking over his shoulder for watchful and prying eyes.

Then, he thought as sleep crept upon him, they could finally have a future.

* * *

The smell of sizzling bacon and frying eggs filled the kitchen. He had awoken an hour earlier and readied himself for the day before making the refreshing walk across down to her apartment.

When he had arrived, he took off his shoes and made his way quietly through the kitchen, to the slightly cracked door. Excited to see him, Hayate followed and stood patiently behind Roy as the man pressed forward. He was met with a familiar and comforting sight- Riza's sleeping figure with a calm expression. Her breathing was quiet, but he could hear the inhales and exhales as if he were right next to her. He thought of waking her with a kiss, but thought otherwise as he turned round, eyeing the kitchen and more importantly, the ice box.

And here he was, cooking up an amazing breakfast for an amazing woman. Hayate, being the great dog he was, found himself a comfortable spot a few feet away from Roy in order to keep the man company while he worked. And of course, that had earned Hayate a piece of bacon. Not wanting to disappoint, it was only natural that Hayate would sit up when he heard stirring in the next room. Alerted, Roy glanced behind him after flipping one of the sizzling eggs to find that Riza had awoken.

He was met with her smile at the doorway and she glided forward to kiss him gently on the cheek, muttering a soft, "Good morning," as she went.

"Good morning," he said, whisking milk into a bowl of several eggs before pouring it into a skillet. He looked up to find her at the counter, starting a pot of tea. After adding the water and the tea bags, she set it on the stove and made her way to the kitchen table, seating herself in front of the morning paper.

Without looking up, she opened the paper before asking quietly, "And when did you decide to come over?"

"Uh, around 7:30. I walked Hayate already. He didn't want to stay out too long, what with the weather getting colder... I can't believe it's already September. I didn't realize the campaign took as long as it did, though."

"Oh... thank you. Yes, Hayate doesn't care for cold sidewalks."

After a few minutes in silence, the tea began to whistle. Rising, she strode over to the other side of the counter and pulled it off of the stove. Watching her despite his cooking, he handed her a coffee mug and smiled when she thanked him. He watched her pour it slowly and carefully, the swirling amber liquid reflecting the light pouring in from the window. She moved back to the table, blowing softly on the steaming cup in her hand. She turned the page of the newspaper, engrossed in the newspaper's editorials and predictions about the outcome of the campaign.

Her hand tightened around the handle of the mug and she sipped, halfheartedly, before holding it in the air. He smirked to himself as he watched her continue to sip the tea.

"Scrambled eggs sound good?" he inquired lightly, dropping his gaze to the hissing skillet filled with egg.

The sound of Riza's retching was muffled by the loud crash. The mug clattered to the floor and seemed to explode, bits of ceramic chunks and tea bursting across the floor. His eyes widened in panic and he dropped the spatula when she doubled over, coughing in gasps on top of the table.

He shut the burners off with shaky hands before he found her side. He pulled her up from the chair and led her over to the garbage can. One hand found her back while the other swept her hair from her face as she continued to cough up bits of tea. When she finally stopped, her amber gaze met his dark one, both full of confusion and panic.

"Riza, what's wrong?" he asked, jaw tensing in concern.

She shook her head, her eyes shifting back towards the tea pot. He followed her gaze and turned to stare at the innocent pot. His thoughts began race.

"I don't know," she whispered weakly.

Roy drew back slightly, his own eyes glancing over towards the unfinished breakfast.

"I think we need to take you in, Riza..."

She straightened up, her eyes closing in a pained frown. What could be wrong with her? What if... He looked back towards the pot. He frowned when his gaze found Riza's once more. He wouldn't put it past Hakuro, even though Pierce hadn't informed him of any suspicious activity lately...

"Come on, go get ready," he muttered, turning back to the stove as he began to clean up the breakfast he had started. All of the eggs and milk were thrown away.

He looked up to find her leaning against the counter, her hands still on her stomach. Her brows knitted softly together in protest, and he straightened from his position, staring down her stubborn posture with his own stubborn and protective glare. Finally, she sighed and headed back into her room to the bathroom.

Grabbing a clean towel, he found himself mopping up the spilt tea before discarding of the broken mug pieces. The soaked towel and the teapot, which still contained much of the suspicious tea, were wrapped carefully into a bag to take with them.

When he was satisfied that all of the pieces were gone so that Riza or Hayate wouldn't find any to step on, he went to check on Riza. The door was locked and the fan was on... but he could hear her quietly retching, emptying the remaining contents of her stomach.

"Riza... are you all right?" he found himself asking, pressing hard against the bathroom door, as if he was somehow closer to her. Silence... He bit his lip, his head lowering as he frowned in frustration.

Then, the door opened and he nearly fell forward. His grasp on the door frame tightened and he managed to catch himself. He straightened and looked her over, noting her fevered and pale state.

"Are you ready to go?"

She nodded, saying nothing, and strode across the room to find her shoes and a jacket. He watched silently, accompanying her with a concerned and protective demeanor.

When they were both ready, he cast a glance behind him at Hayate, curled up nervously in his dog bed, brown eyes watching quietly.

"Good boy," he muttered quietly, before he slung the packed bag over his shoulder stepped through the door to accompany Riza to the hospital.

* * *

**And there you go. I hope you enjoyed. I would still appreciate any reviews. Next chapter coming very soon.**

**-Bryan**


	15. Whatever it Takes

**AN: I wasn't going to post this chapter so soon, but one of the comments I received really irked me. Because what I have to say may spoil this chapter, I'm going to add my response at the end of the text. **

******I hope those of you who ARE reading the fanfic for your own enjoyment continue to do so.******

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its characters.

* * *

**Back to The East**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Whatever it Takes**

It was ten o'clock.

He paced the white and blue tiled floors incessantly, his hands anxiously running through his hair. The ticking of the plain white clock on the wall echoed dimly across the near-empty lobby and he cast a glance towards the pixie-nosed nurse leaning lethargically against the wall near her desk. He noted her eyeing him closely, and he drew in a sigh of frustration.

He bit his lip in anticipation, brows furrowing in a glare as he recalled his denial into the room with her. He wasn't a family member or a spouse, they had said, before they left him out in the lobby almost an hour ago, but not before taking the contents of the bag and Roy's warning of poison into consideration.

'Bull shit,' he thought silently as he strode over to one of the many chairs throughout the lobby, distancing himself from the young female soldier in the center with a cast and crutches, as well the three male soldiers groaning and clutching various parts of their bodies in the corner.

He sat down and crossed his arms, and soon found himself nervously bouncing one of his legs. He could feel the glances and hidden stares of the soldiers around him, no doubt curious as to why the now famous General Mustang was accompanying a female soldier to the hospital on a Monday morning.

His thoughts picked up as he began to ponder the many times of poisons that could have been slipped into Riza's groceries, those detectable in basic testing and those that were undetectable. The inquiry of _what_ poison shifted into _how_ the criminal had entered Riza's house, and when. Of course, Hayate wouldn't have noticed—Riza had left him with Fuery whilst they were traveling the country the past month. And finally, _who_ would want to poison Riza? Riza had never been involved in the direct limelight of the campaign, but she was constantly by his side…

He sighed in frustration, dropping his crossed arms before leaning forward to stare at his dim reflection in the tile floor beneath him. He felt so hopeless sitting here while she was just a few hundred feet away. His memories drifted back to that night on the Fuhrer's steps, drenched in his own blood, too weak to move… Weak. Hopeless. Broken. And then she found him… She saved him. She sacrificed so much for his benefit. And here he was, unable to return the favor.

His growling stomach drew him from his reverie, and he looked up to check the clock again, slowly ticking towards twelve. A sigh escaped his lips and he cradled his head in his hands for a few moments.

"General Mustang?"

His head snapped up to find one of the male soldiers had hobbled over from the corner and was now standing in front of him, an eager smile plastered onto his face. He extended his hand to Roy.

"It's an honor to meet you, Sir. Could I have your autograph?"

Roy's face tightened in annoyance—he had had enough of this waiting game, and now this? He rose and grabbed the soldier's hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Sorry soldier, I don't have time for autographs. Maybe some other time," he muttered before clapping the soldier on the shoulder and cracking a fake smile.

In an instant, he had turned and was swiftly striding through the door, ignoring the offended and agitated soldier behind him. He found his way to the front desk and leaned coyly over the counter, forcing the infamous Mustang smirk. The blonde pixie-nosed nurse perked up quickly, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear.

"General Mustang," she giggled softly, "What can I do for you?"

He felt his stomach churn as he forced himself to chuckle, and he crossed his arms and leaned towards the nurse, his dark eyes searching for the name badge on her white scrub labeled 'Sarah.'

"Sarah," he started, his gaze lifting to her dark green eyes, "You seem oddly familiar to me…"

The nurse smiled and leaned towards Roy, her face within a foot of his.

"Really? That's interesting… I do go out often, when I'm not working."

Roy snickered softly and leaned closer towards her.

"You must dine out at the popular restaurants... I never forget a pretty face," Roy remarked sincerely, his smirk shifting into a smile.

"Oh, Mr. Mustang… your reputation _does_ precede you. Can I do anything for you today, Sir?" Sarah asked through stifled giggles.

Roy chuckled quietly again and turned his head thoughtfully to the side, his gaze rising as if pondering if there was indeed anything else the nurse could assist him in… And then he looked at her once more, lips parting to speak quietly.

"Ah, yes, I almost forgot… could you be so kind as to inform me which room Ms. Hawkeye is in? It would be much appreciated."

The nurse blushed softly and looked down at the clipboard beneath her arms, which she had been leaning on to get closer to Roy. She looked back up at him nervously.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm afraid I can't disclose that information…"

Roy pouted playfully and clasped his hands together, his eyes hopeful.

"Sarah, please… I'm only asking this one favor," he muttered pitifully, before giving a wink.

The nurse seemed to melt and she giggled quietly into her hand before she leaned forward once more.

"Okay, okay… She's in room 113."

He stared at her for a few moments before he dropped it to the counter with a sigh of relief. Then, he straightened and thanked her and started through the door that led to the hallway where the patients were examined.

His footsteps picked up as he took off further down the hall, his head spinning like a top left and right. He could hear her voice before he saw the room, followed by another female's voice. His steps quickened, and he grasped the handle firmly before pushing it open.

Riza sat timidly on the bed, her hands clasped anxiously together in her lap. She looked shaken, but not as pale or sick. He breathed a sigh of relief as the door snapped close behind him, and his eyes traveled to the doctor seated on a stool beside Riza. She was a pale and thin woman, with long, dark hair and shining blue eyes that oddly reminded him of a female doctor he had seen long ago. He shook off the memory and his lips parted to speak.

"Well, doctor? Has she been poisoned? What's the prognosis?"

* * *

The swift turning gears beneath the train rattled quietly, and a sigh escaped the man by the window. His gaze narrowed as he watched the beautiful landscape illuminated by the afternoon sun on the other side of the thin layer of glass drift by. His thoughts, however, were at a standstill.

"Sir, if I do say so myself, I think you have every reason to dig for a little...dirt."

The man's cold blue eyes shifted to the clean-shaven, dark haired man sitting across from him. The previous night, Carl Johnston, Hakuro's campaign manager, had discovered the new assistant, James Carson, snooping around in several of the campaign strategy files Johnston kept in his room while traveling around the country. Of course, Hakuro had taken care of that loose end after _thorough_ questioning...

"I agree... I had a feeling that Mustang would try something. He's always had something to hide, even before the Fuhrer was killed. And he's not alone... He's constantly with that insipid side-kick of his, that Hawkeye girl."

Johnston gave a quiet 'Hmm,' before he reached into his bag, withdrawing a thick black folder. He crossed his legs and flipped it open, revealing a thorough military profile review. His impermeable green eyes swept over the first page for the thousandth time, before rising to settle on the black and white headshot of the man named Roy Mustang.

"So, Mustang's womanizing antics have spread inside military personnel? I thought that was against military rule..."

Hakuro's brows furrowed into a deep frown, and he leaned forward and dropped his head in his hands, his thick, rough fingers poorly massaging his eyes before he began to speak.

"It is against it... And you know, this whole Carson incident has left me feeling like there's more we don't know about, like there's a piece of the puzzle missing..."

Johnston's head tilted in a curious manner as he scrutinized Hakuro's sagging and defeated posture, and he let loose a sigh before he shook his head.

"Hakuro... You ran a _great _run, fair and clean. I know it's hard to hear this, but I'm a bit worried myself that Mustang might have the upper hand in this campaign. There are a lot of people in this country who are tired of the old ways, despite how righteous and justified those ways are. But there's good news..."

Johnston leaned forward, beaming in excitement. He reached out and clapped Hakuro affectionately on the shoulder, and cracked a cheap smile when the older man wearily looked up. The smile dissipated at the grimace that slowly spread across Hakuro's face.

"Why do you sound like I've already lost this campaign, Johnston," Hakuro growled before he shoved the man's hand off of his shoulder.

He rose to his feet, muscles tensed and fists clenched. Drawing back nervously, Johnston threw up his hands and quickly exclaimed, "This evidence that we've come across could seriously change the outcome of this campaign, and your future!"

Hakuro paused and took a deep breath before he turned and moved towards the window. He said nothing for a few moments.

Johnston watched Hakuro with an anxious stare, and the impenatrable wall seemed to melt into the depths of green before his lips parted to speak.

"Hakuro... I'm not going to pretend like I know what you're going through. Nothing can replace your family, Hakuro... You shouldn't allow this campaign to replace them, and-"

Johnston was cut short when Hakuro whirled around and shot a piercing glare at the campaign manager.

"Shut up, Johnston! You say you're not going to act like you know what I'm going through, but that's not what it sounds like. And if Roy Mustang is above cheating, what else do you think he's above? Murder?"

Johnston's face shifted into a mix between horror and confusion, as if he were on the edge of realizing what Hakuro had been secretly brooding over the past several weeks throughout the campaign. His lips parted, his voice trembling.

"Y-you...you don't think...?"

Hakuro turned fully to face Johnston, but settled his gaze on the window as he allowed his turmoil to wash over him.

"I do, Johnston. He killed in Ishbal, why not now? This is bigger than both of us, Carl, him and me. I'll bet that he's been planning this his entire career, to start an uproar and overthrow the Fuhrer and send the country into chaos and anarchy before moving in to save the day and take over. But that aspect didn't work out in his favor. The remnants of the government acted too quickly while he was recovering, and he knew he would have to go from the inside to set up this clever campaign, but not before killing my family to ruin me... To take everything I had away so that I would be left weak, defenseless, and broken."

Johnston was staring at Hakuro so closely he had started to lean forward, hanging on every word. His eyes widened when Hakuro's gaze lifted and locked onto his.

"But he didn't count on me figuring him out, or taking this campaign so seriously. He probably assumed that I would quit."

Slowly, Hakuro stepped back and lowered himself onto the seat. He pressed his back firmly against the seat, and leaned his head back, his eyes finding the ceiling.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, and straightened from his previous position.

"Enter," he said loudly.

A moment later, a young male soldier entered the room.

"Pardon my interruption, sir, but there's a phone call for General Hakuro."

Hakuro shot a glance to Johnston, and the campaign manager rose and started towards the door.

"I'll take the call," Johnston said as he disappeared down the train car, leaving Hakuro alone to brood silently. His gaze traveled to the window, watching the golden orange hues of the setting sun spill across the landscape. In the distance, he could see Central.

Ten minutes passed before Johnston returned. When he did, he came in chuckling quietly to himself, and once he closed the door, he took a seat in front of Hakuro again. Hakuro's eyes followed him the whole way, one brow rising curiously at the man's humor.

"One of our faithful soldiers just gave me a big of interesting news. Mustang was seen escorting Hawkeye into the hospital this morning. Mustang presented several mysteries items and mentioned the word 'poisoned'."

Hakuro's puzzled look shifted into a mischievous smirk.

"That _is_ interesting… If Mustang can play dirty, then why can't we? I believe that once we arrive in central, someone should personally look into Mustang _and_Hawkeye's affairs, beyond their medical records. Perhaps we should dig deeper, maybe as far as educational and financial aspects… We're going to do whatever it takes to win this thing. "

The scratching of pen on paper drew his attention, and he looked down to find Johnston feverishly illustrating details of their conversation and possible aspects of personal history to uncover once they reached Central Headquarters.

"Don't worry, Sir," Johnston muttered, "I'm sure there'll be something to dig up once we gain secret access to their files."

Hakuro straightened slightly, and his gaze traveled to the window once more, noting the setting sun. The sound of the wheels on the lunch trolley echoed down their train car. He drew in a low sigh before speaking again.

"I'm serious, Johnston... Whatever it takes. I'll kill him if I have to."

The scratching of Johnston's pen slowed to pause for a moment, and he could feel the incredulous campaign manager's eyes on him...before the scratching started up again.

* * *

It was Thursday morning, and the clock bell chimed nine times from its perch atop the tower in Central Headquarters.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?"

The two men cast shady eyes around the hospital lobby as they made their way to the front desk where the receptionist sat.

"Yes," the first man started as he reached into his overcoat to withdraw a small blue booklet and a badge, "We're going to need you to pull some files for us."

The nurse took the booklet and the badge and scrutinized it for a few moments before she nodded in affirmation.

"Okay, sir, I'll take you in the back and show you where to look."

"Thanks," the second man grumbled as the nurse lead them through the door behind the counter.

She led them into a large, well-lit room with several isles made up of back-to-back filing cabinets, each assigned two cabinets to per alphabetical letter.

"Well, here they are. Happy hunting," she said cheerfully before she started back out of the room.

The first man turned to the second, nodding shortly before both split. They found themselves on opposite sides of the room, both busying themselves in the cabinets with 'H' and 'M' labels. An hour passed before they found the files they were looking for. Both met up and found a seat in a few chairs settled in the corner of the room.

With grumbles and sighs of frustration, they slowly sifted through the two files for nearly another hour due to the organization of the file—oldest first, most recent last.

"We're bound to find something," said the first man as he ruffled through the 'M' folder and discovered a thorough examination of a Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder analysis that had been taken a month after the Ishbal war had officially ended.

"I'm sure we will, considering all of the odd facts we found out yesterday. Childhood friends who entered the military together… She served under him for how many years after Ishbal? And then the whole Bradley incident happens and whose care does Mustang end up in for several months?"

The two men cast unconvincing glances towards each other and muttered, "Hers," in unison.

Finally, after only a few minor noteworthy discoveries, the second man turned over the last paper in in the 'H' folder.

He stared at the updated medical report for a few moments in disbelief, and then shook his head, chuckling softly.

"Well, it looks like we found that "little dirt" the boss wanted, huh," the second man muttered before he brandished the paper in the first man's face.

The first man snatched it from the second's hand and began to read aloud.

"Riza Hawkeye… Birth date, blood type, weight, height, blah blah blah… Patient's symptoms are… nausea, vomiting, stomach pains… Prognosis confirmed the patient was _not _poisoned… Oh my God," said the first man, his tone lowering to a hush, "The patient was found to be seven weeks pregnant."

* * *

**"just so you know morning sickness occurs around the 6th week of pregnancy, not the night after. So by the time Hawkeye's pregnancy would have become recognizable on the outside the election would have been over"**

**To the anonymous reviewer named Joseph: When I was younger, I probably would have gotten fairly pissed off at your review. But I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and explain myself. I feel like my impression of your comment is negative and meant to ridicule me, and I'm guessing it wasn't intended to be that way. Whether it was or it wasn't, I would like to make a few points regarding your statement.**

**1) Riza is pregnant because of my own choosing—I decided that she was going to get pregnant SEVERAL chapters ago—but nowhere in the 14th chapter did I state that she was. In case you were unable to comprehend anything I wrote in the previous chapter, the scene was set up to make Riza seemed poisoned. It adds suspense of the story, and increases the overall plot.**

**2) I'm not pretending to be an expert on morning sickness. I googled it to find out how long someone is pregnant before it starts (and found several opinions about when it starts ranging from 6, to 8, to 12 weeks)— I realize that it's "not the night after." That point confuses me—are you assuming that Roy and Riza had sex (I suppose which you assumed at the end of chapter 13?) and she had morning sickness the following morning? If so, then no, you're wrong—the pregnancy was supposed to have occurred before the campaign/election began, and if you read my story closely you would find that touring around the entire country of Amestris took about a month. Add on a few more weeks before the campaign started (which during that time they WERE in a relationship), and you have your conception time.**

**3) I really don't appreciate you and other individuals on this website who assume the upcoming incidents in stories. I'm not the greatest writer, so some of the events that take place in my story may be predictable. However, out of the 100+ reviews that I have received, I've found that many people genuinely enjoy this fanfic, which is why I decided to continue it after two years. It's not too hard to try to guess or assume what will happen next in a story, but when you include it on your review, (which many readers like to look over when they read a fanfic that they enjoy) it ruins the story for them, and seems very rude and unnecessary… **

**Bottom line is, Riza's hints towards pregnancy were not in any way prominent in the previous chapters, and although your inconsiderate assumption was correct, it wasn't necessary. Please know that your type of comment seriously puts off readers and writers alike, AND discourages writers from continuing their stories… Put yourself in my shoes.**

**Other than that, I hope the rest of you enjoyed the fanfic. Accurate and constructive criticism would greatly be appreciated. Thanks.**

**-Bryan**


	16. A Man of His Word

**AN: Thanks to the few of you guys who did review. I was hoping for more, but most of the fans of this story probably forgot about it (since I hadn't updated in over a year) or they're just lurking... No worries though. I hope you guys enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Back to The East**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: A Man of His Word**

"You'd know what to do if you were here..."

The man's shadowy gaze swept over the all-too-familiar grave, his eyes lingering over his old friend's name. His blank features shifted to a reminiscent smile, and he slowly lowered himself into a crouch; the bouquet of blue hydrangeas were placed neatly across the flat marker, before he withdrew his reach and rested his elbows on his knees. His head lowered when he took note of the growing lump in his throat. He swallowed, hard.

He thought of Riza sobbing at the kitchen table, apologizing to him over and over again, as if it were her fault. They should have been more careful… They should have waited. He didn't want it happen how it had. He wanted to have become Fuhrer first, to marry her, to eventually start a family…

"How did you do it, Maes? You managed to balance the family and work so well."

He thought of Gracia and Elysia, and all of the times Maes had shoved family photos into his face with infectious pride and excitement. He chuckled quietly to himself at the thought and closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to his conversation with Riza earlier that morning, before he decided to take a trip to the cemetery.

"You always put your family's safety first... But I made a promise."

In the back of his mind, he heard Maes' voice, laced with concern and disappointment.

'Don't be stupid, Roy... This is the woman you love and your child! You honestly think that that promise means more to you than your family? You've already atoned for what you did in Ishbal, Roy—you rid our country of a tyrannical leader. Stop being so damn hard on yourself and move on.'

Roy let loose a sigh before he rose from his crouched position.

She warned him, told him they needed to think about the long-term resolution. But even if he were elected Fuhrer, it would take months to pass the fraternization law. And if they got married once it changed, it would be impossible to hide the pregnancy.

"It's not that simple," he whispered at Maes' point, but he knew that his argument was going nowhere.

"Do you even want this child?" He couldn't believe that she had even asked him that. But he told her he did, and that he would never abandon her or the child.

His hands found his pockets and his gaze rose to the rippling golden grass, swaying to and fro from the fall breeze. The sun was just peaking over the buildings of Central, towards the East, where his journey had begun...

He turned on his heel and started back towards the entrance of the cemetery, but not without casting a lingering glance on the trio of headstones that were fairly new to the grounds.

* * *

"General Mustang, what a wonderful surprise for a Wednesday morning!"

General Grumman leaned back in his office chair, beaming pleasantly towards the man in uniform saluting on the threshold of his office. His smile, however, faded at the look on Roy's face-a mixture between exhaustion and frustration.

"Sir," Roy began, his voice low and groggy, "Permission to speak to you privately, Sir?"

Grumman straightened, resting his elbows on the polished cherrywood desk. He laced his fingers together and nodded, watching silently as Roy closed and locked his office door.

Roy took a seat a few moments later, his bare hands grasping the ends of the chair tightly. He slouched uncomfortably in the large padded chair, his leg beginning to bob up and down.

"Is everything alright, Mustang?" Grumman murmured softly, his mustache twitching.

Roy's gaze avoided Grumman's, instead following the intricate pattern carved into the front of the desk. He drew in a deep sigh, turning his head to glance towards the line of glass windows in the General's spacious office.

"Riza's pregnant," Roy said finally, his dark eyes finally shifting to Grumman.

He felt his stomach tighten and a lump form in his throat once more. The strange sensation of prickling swept from his nose to his eyes, and he clenched his jaw and huffed a deep breath to keep the tears from starting. He felt a great sense of embarrassment and humility, much like a child who had confessed to stealing to their parent. Like most times that Roy spoke with General Grumman, he couldn't perceive what the elderly man was thinking behind the reflective, circular spectacles.

"I see you took my advice about taking that chance during the East promotion," Grumman responded suddenly, a light smile gracing his lips. The General tilted his head curiously, and his mustache twitched once more before speaking again.

"How does Riza feel about this?" the elder man asked.

Roy's gaze shifted into a faraway stare.

"I'm not really sure… She seems upset, but I think it's because of how difficult this makes the situation. But if it weren't for all of the frustration, I would think that she would be excited to have this child."

"And what about you?" The man's glasses twinkled softly in the light spilling in from the windows.

Roy's features softened into a smile.

"I'm… I want it. I want to have a family with her."

"How far along is she?" Grumman asked, changing the direction of the conversation.

"Seven weeks," Roy answered quickly, straightening in his seat, "She had morning sickness Monday... I took her to the hospital because I thought someone might have poisoned her. I... I don't know what to do, Sir."

"What exactly are you worried about, son?" Grumman inquired, frowning softly.

Roy's features shifted into slight confusion at the simplicity of the question.

"Fraternization between two soldiers in the same office is forbidden," Roy started, "And it would be dishonorable for people to find out if—"

"Roy," Grumman chuckled, shaking his head, "Let me remind you of all of the rules you broke before you were promoted to General, in addition to _attacking _and_ killing _the Fuhrer of Amestris... You honestly believe that a little fraternization is going to be the death of you?"

Roy stared at the man for a few moments before he dropped his gaze, absentmindedly playing with the gold buttons on the cuffs of his sleeve.

"It's not just 'a little fraternization,' Sir... This is the woman that I want to spend the rest of my life with, not just some little fling or a crush. She's become... one of the reason why I wanted to get into a position where I can have a hand in amending such a ridiculous and unnecessary rule. If people were to find out during the election, it would reflect terribly on her..."

He trailed off, his shoulders and his head lowering, "And she deserves so much better than that—I respect her far too much to allow that to happen. I want to do what's right for her and the child, but I know that she feels responsible, like it's entirely her fault. I don't think she would ever let go of her guilt if I quit the campaign because of this... And I made a promise to someone that I would see this through to the end, but I never thought I would have to worry about a family… I'm torn between which priority should be number one."

Roy trailed off, and his gaze drifted upwards onto Grummans.

"My career or my family."

After a few moments, Roy's gaze drifted to the window and Grumman did the same.

Slowly, the elder man sighed.

"I had always hoped that my granddaughter would find a respectable and honorable man to take care of her...not that she needs taken care of," he remarked, smiling once more before he turned his shining spectacles in Roy's direction.

"In any case, Roy, I personally believe that you can do both—become Fuhrer and raise a family—but I will support your decision."

Roy's expression shifted into frustration, as if the man's response did not offer the decisive advice he craved.

"But… you should know that you both have my blessing," Grumman murmured quietly, his lips upturning into a sly smile.

Despite every negative feeling that had overwhelmed him previously, he felt an odd feeling of relief and resolve at the General's statement. He smiled weakly, humbled by the man's acceptance and his lack of judgment upon the alchemist.

He leaned forward and outstretched his hand, and Grumman chuckled softly and leaned forward to take it. They shook firmly and affectionately.

"That means… everything to me, Sir," Roy said quietly.

When Roy rose to leave, he said farewell and that he would see him Friday morning, when the Generals, along with Mustang and Hakuro, would meet with the Government Council to ready for the day's debate, upon which thousands of soldiers and citizens from all over Amestris would be attending.

General Grumman knew that Roy would be there. After all… He was a man of his word.

* * *

**There you go. Chapter seventeen has already been started. I hope you are enjoying the story so far. **

**-Bryan**


	17. Violent Vendetta

**AN: Hey guys, this chapter is super long and filled with action so I hope you enjoy. I feel like this story is finally picking up. Hopefully it will only take about one long or two medium length chapters to go until the end. Also, thanks for all of the positive reviews I've been getting, it means a lot that people have really enjoyed my last fanfic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Back to the East**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Violent Vendetta**

It was still dark, but the birds were chirping as if the sun had risen.

"You can't be serious…"

The files were strewn across the table in chronological order. The gray-haired man in uniform was leaning back in the large chair, his black boots propped up on the desk.

Hakuro was gazing at the recent file found in Hawkeye's medical records. He couldn't believe his eyes.

The two men seated before him cast each other successful smirks.

"So how did we do, General?" the first man inquired, muscled arms crossing over his chest.

Hakuro cast a sidelong glance to Johnston, who was standing with his back to the three men seated around the desk. It looked as if he were admiring the portrait painting of Hakuro and his family.

The General leaned forward and placed the paper onto the desk.

"Very good job, gentlemen. This information is very useful. Now, we just need to decide what to do with it…"

Johnston turned around, his green eyes swirling in thought.

"Hakuro, you do realize that you might be assuming far too much? What if her pregnancy is with someone other than Mustang?"

The second man turned slightly to cast a glance over his shoulder.

"Even if those two aren't in a romantic relationship, they _are_ really good friends."

Hakuro looked down at the paperwork, his jaw tensing.

"The only way to get to Mustang is to get her… And the debate is tomorrow. We have to act fast."

"So what do you suggest, boss?" the first man questioned, dropping his crossed arms to lean forward.

Hakuro's gaze flickered to Johnston, whose questioning eyes were on him. Thoughts shifting, his blue eyes moved to the family portrait, eyeing each individual face of his departed loved ones.

"…I need twenty men in here that I can trust to keep their mouths such as soon as possible for a briefing."

The two men rose in unison, and Johnston made his way next to Hakuro, peering down at the opened files of Mustang and Hawkeye on the desk.

"What did you have in mind, Sir?" Johnston asked quietly.

Hakuro chuckled quietly, and he shuffled some papers around before discovering what he had been searching for—a headshot of Mustang.

"We're going to make Mustang choose just like he forced me… His loved one, or his career."

* * *

She stared at her reflection in the amber liquid and pressed her hand tighter against her abdomen. Beneath her, Hayate sat up with curious eyes, peering up at his engrossed master.

Everything seemed numb, as if time was suspended in the stillness of the reality of her situation.

She was supposed to be helping him get to the top. She had promised to serve him, to protect him. Was it somewhere along that line that she fell in love with him, or was it long before they had even joined the Amestrian military, when he had apprenticed under her father?

They had both sacrificed so much to get Roy where he was. Bradley was gone. A successful and reputable government was in place and restoring peace to the country and its allies. Roy had gotten close enough to the higher-ups to have a legitimate chance to become the Fuhrer. And their relationship had developed into more than the silent conversations through meaningless banter in the office, quick glances when the other wasn't looking, loyalty that went without request, appreciation without voice.

Her hand pressed against her stomach and she felt her throat tighten. They should have waited. She should have told him no… But God, she loved him. How could she say no? Everything they had worked for could be ruined.

The sound of Hayate yawning softly drew her from her thoughts, and her piercing gaze lowered to the small down who curled up by her foot.

She drew the ceramic cup to her lips and frowned. The tea had gone cold. She sighed and rose to her feet and strode into the kitchen, tossing the contents into the sink. Her eyes drifted through the window above the sink, onto the rising sun peaking through the early morning clouds. She had hardly slept last night… And the final debate was tomorrow. Roy had left for his own flat the previous day. For cautionary measures, he had taken all of his things that he had left in her apartment over the past several months with him.

The knock on her door drew her attention. Her brows furrowed in suspicion. Roy hadn't mentioned anything about stopping by. But, perhaps he wanted to check on her. She crossed the living room and stopped at the door, leaning forward to peer through the peephole. On the other side, she saw the top of a man wearing a cap, peering over what appeared to be a large bouquet of roses.

Her frown deepened. Who would be sending _someone_to give her flowers? Roy would never do that… The only flowers he'd ever given her were from him personally.

Riza's gaze drifted to the door handle, making sure that it was locked. She looked back through the peep hole and her lips parted to speak.

"Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes, hello? I have a delivery of a large bouquet of roses for a Miss Riza Hawkeye?"

She was silent. Behind her, Hayate was ambling over to the door, eyes and ears alert.

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong address," she responded.

The man on the other side lowered the flowers with an odd expression on his face, and he turned to look down the hallway for a few moments, before he turned back to the door, features hardening into a determined grimace. His raised his hand to knock once more.

"Ma'am, the landlord told us that this apartment is leased to Riza Hawkeye."

_Us?_There was more than one. Slowly, she backed away from the door and moved into her bedroom. The knocking insisted, the man growing frustrated at her lack of response. Her gaze hardened and her thoughts whirled as she approached her end table. She reached on the underside of the wooden table and unfastened the holster, withdrawing a .45 pistol.

The knocking continued, the man's tone growing angrier and louder. Hayate had followed Riza, watching her cautiously. She started into the kitchen, moving carefully behind the counter, her gaze never wavering. The knocking grew louder and the man began swearing obscenities, followed by several loud footsteps on the stairs. Was he leaving? Suddenly, the voices lowered to a hush.

And then, a different man's voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"Captain Hawkeye, open up immediately. We have military orders to accompany you to Central Headquarters for questioning. If you cooperate, your punishment will be less severe."

Riza was quiet. Did they honestly believe that would sway her into opening the door? What military official attempted to "accompany" soldiers to Central Headquarters for questioning by posing as a flower delivery boy? She remained silent and a hush settled over the men… And then a bang shook the apartment as the door flinched on its hinges.

Undaunted, she lowered herself against the counter, pistol resting calmly and defensively on the counter top. Another bang, and her thumb found the hammer of the gun. Another rattle and it became cocked.

The door came swinging open on the final kick, banging sloppily against the wall. A man stepped in front of the threshold, bulky and built despite his average height. She didn't recognize him.

He stepped forward, his gaze making contact with the gun. His smile was cheap, and he slowly began to walk towards her kitchen area, closer to her.

"Ms. Hawkeye… Firearms aren't necessary. If you'll just come with me, everything will be easier. This doesn't have to be hard…"

Hawkeye didn't move, her hard gaze drifting between him and the hallway. How many more were out there?

In an instant, the man removed a pistol from a rear holster and leapt forward beneath Hawkeye's table, kicking the legs on the opposite side as he did. The table collapsed onto its side, successfully providing covering for him. Her aim followed him, but just as she was about to shoot a warning shot at the table, the delivery man shot out from behind the door and fired randomly into the apartment.

Her hand lifted and she took a slow breath—how many times had she come across a situation like this in Ishbal?—before she pulled the trigger and fired several shots into the door, successfully scaring the deliveryman back around the corner. The man behind the table called out.

"Captain, you're making this awfully hard. I'd hate to think of what General Mustang would think when he hears about this…"

Her brows furrowed, her eyes snapping anxiously towards the phone on the other side of the counter. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the deliveryman hiding near the door peak out long enough to aim before he fired.

She felt an explosive pain hit her abdomen, and found warmth and wetness when her left hand connected to the pain. She looked down at the hole in the cabinet door beneath the kitchen counters and looked up to see that the man behind the kitchen table had risen. Without hesitance, she raised her pistol and fired, silent as she watched him crumple to all fours, weeping in pain, after his kneecap exploded.

The room seemed to spin for a moment, and she watched Hayate leap out from behind the counter towards the door. The small black and white dog had a moment to stop and look left before he was suddenly sent flying back into the apartment by a shoed foot.

Angry, she slowly made her way around the kitchen counter, careful not to take the pressure off of the throbbing pain in her abdomen. She listened for the sound of the man behind the apartment wall and she raised her pistol near the baseboards, estimating where the deliveryman's foot would be bore she fired. A wailing yelp shot out and she heard the thud of him collapsing and the clang of his pistol on the floor.

"Hayate?" she called, as the small dog shakily found his feet and began limping over to her. She attempted to grab the phone with one hand, tucking it between her ear and her shoulder. She began to dial. The line was busy.

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs drew her attention, and she dropped the phone, leaving it swinging into the kitchen counter. She looked at Hayate and pointed, pistol still in hand, to her bedroom. He obeyed the command and limped off to the room.

She turned and moved to the front door, her weakening amber gaze peering out from the battered apartment door. A man was coming up the stairs, withdrawing a pistol from beneath his jacket.

"Drop the gun," she called out tersely as he topped the staircase.

The man, balding and scruffy looking, looked over to her, his gaze dropping to the man who was inching his way to the start of the staircase, halfway across the hall flanked by the floor's banister.

He began to raise his gun and she fired at his shoulder. He dropped to the ground, and his pistol clattered down the stairs. He clutched his shoulder in pain and Riza began to limp forward, past the deliveryman, whose foot was bleeding. She stepped over him and felt a sharp pain from her wound but kept moving. Her gaze caught the sight of the tossed bouquet of roses that had been trampled upon. She had to get somewhere else and call Roy…

She was passing the man with the shoulder wound who was slumped against the wall, grimacing at her with a mix of fear and loathing. She turned to the top of the stairs, her pistol aimed cautiously at the man.

Her vision began to blur as her gaze dropped down the long flight of the stairs to the bottom, where several men were standing, pistols drawn. Everything seemed much slower than it actually was. Her gaze lowered even further to the crimson stain growing around her hand on her blue blouse. She looked up and raised her pistol at the crowd of men, taken a step down onto the first step…

Then, she felt something catch her ankle and she toppled forward into darkness.

* * *

"I'm sorry, General Mustang, but we are unable to connect to Mr. Carson at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?"

Mustang's features shifted into a hard frown and he bit his lip nervously. His dark eyes peered through the dusty windowpanes in his office. Why hadn't Pierce contacted him yet? Hakuro was back already, and John should have been as well.

He was pulled from his reverie by the operator asking her question again, and let loose a sigh before his gaze dropped to his desk.

"Uh… No, thank you though. Have a nice day."

He set the phone down onto the receiver with a snap and settled back into his chair, rocking slowly from side to side. One arm rose, his fingers massaging his temple. Could something have gone wrong? The debate was tomorrow…

He gave a soft sigh and dropped his gloved hand to the table before his eyes began to sway back and forth down the outline of his speech. His whole career could be riding on tomorrow.

His eyes lingered on the gleaming numbers on the phone and he weighed his options. Hesitantly, he reached for the receiver and dialed the operator.

"Secure line to Captain Riza Hawkeye's residence."

"Right away, Sir," came the response before the line began to ring.

It rang… and rang. She didn't pick up. Odd. She should have been home. Perhaps she was sleeping? With a curious "Hmm," he set the phone back onto the phone receiver. The knock at the door drew his attention and he wearily looked up.

"Come in."

The door banged open and eight rough men filed into the room while two other men lingered just outside the door. The group divided in two and four men lined up on either side of the entrance. The echoing of footsteps reached his ear despite the quiet mumbles and clearing throats of the men standing before him. A moment later, a slender man with cold gray eyes entered, dressed in slacks and a sports coat.

He strolled forward casually, his gaze never wavering from Mustang's.

"General Mustang… I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with me for some questioning."

Roy's gaze narrowed and he calmly leaned forward, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

"On what grounds, may I ask?"

The man stared for a moment before he sneered, "Does a Mr. 'Carson' ring a bell?"

The General's stoic expression didn't falter and he gave a low sigh before muttering, "Not in particular, no. And even if I did, I don't think that taking me away from my busy schedule is necessary for questioning."

"Don't get smart with me, Mustang," the man hissed before he raised an arm to draw back the left side of his coat, revealing a holstered pistol. His brows rose slightly, awaiting a reaction from Roy. When he found none, he stepped closer, his hands finding his pockets before he lowered his head towards Mustang.

"Look, Roy… Can I call you Roy? I didn't want to get personal and drag your sweetheart into this, but I'm afraid you leave me no choice. Now, if you don't want her to get hurt, or her little secret to get out, I suggest you cooperate with us."

Mustang snapped up onto his feet, and the men lining his office flinched, clumsily reaching for their own weapons whilst suspiciously eyeing the Flame Alchemist. With a chuckle, Roy raised his hands in a humoring gesture of defeat.

"Boys, boys… Calm yourselves. This doesn't need to be any more difficult than it already is."

The man before him nodded, casting a smirk towards the men standing behind him, before looking back towards Roy.

"Good. Now, let's—"

The man was cut off at the sound of paper whipping into the air, due to the large stack of paper aside Mustang's desk that had just been flung. A second later, the fling was followed by a snap and a bolt of fiery lightning that exploded the papers into smoke.

Needless to say, the rough men surrounding the room were too shocked to react quickly enough, groping for the pistols while choking and coughing for air in the thick smoke cloud.

Their eyes desperately searched for the sound of glass breaking and the soft "thud" that followed, but it took several moments of blind grasping before ring leader felt his way towards Mustang's last position. He was met with a gaping hole in the window, and as the smoke began to pour out of the shattered exit, he found the General's splintered office chair several feet below, Mustang nowhere in sight.

He cursed loudly and swung around to the men behind him.

"You're all useless! None of you had the sense to pull your guns out when he threw the damn papers?"

Nothing was spoken as the man stormed out towards the phone room.

Hakuro wasn't going to like this.

* * *

His lungs burned and his head was pounding and his legs were shaking but he kept running. How ridiculous must he have looked, he wondered—a grown man in uniform sprinting across town?

Civilians gawked, vendors hid behind their stands and paperboys leapt aside. It wasn't long before he found himself at Riza's apartment complex, and it was with difficulty that he managed to keep his pace as he filed up the stairs.

Her door was ajar when he finally reached her floor, and he approached cautiously despite his heavy pants. He felt his stomach tighten at the sight of bullet holes that riddled the white wood and the smears of crimson on it. He looked down to find a small blood trail that lead from the apartment to the staircase. He brushed his damp bangs from his vision with a gloved hand before he delivered a soft kick to the door and bolted in, dark eyes flickering wildly across the trashed room.

His heart sank into his stomach.

The coat rack had been knocked over and the closet had been searched. The kitchen table was overturned, which also had several bullet marks and a pool of smeared blood; the chairs were strewn across the kitchen. The cabinets had been emptied and the drawers left yanked open. The blood trail led into the kitchen.

He called out for her as he pressed forward into the bedroom. The blankets and sheets were ripped off of the bed. Her closet, dresser and bathroom appeared to have been ransacked, but nothing appeared to be missing… He checked the underside of her nightstand, where she kept her pistol. It was gone.

He heard a soft whimper from beneath the bed and he dropped to all fours, peering beneath the heavy wooden frame. He was met with the frightful brown eyes of Black Hayate. With a lump in his throat, he extended a hand, softly cooing towards the dog that immediately recognized the tone of the man and crawled forward, limping his way out into Roy's presence. He must have tried to protect Riza…

He drew the dog into his arms and rose to his feet. He found Riza's phone in the kitchen, the phone hanging off the receiver, pooling at his feet on a tight cord. He picked it up and thought hard for a moment to recall the desired number, before his gloved fingers began to nimbly process his mind's request.

The sound of Havoc's laid-back tone eased his tension slightly.

"Havoc, I need you to come to Hawkeye's apartment complex and meet me now. Bring the boys."

Mustang was sure that the panic in his tone was enough to hush any sarcastic responses from Jean. Havoc didn't argue. With a quick, "You got it, Chief!" he ended the call. Mustang slowly put the receiver down, his dark eyes traveling once more over the disastrous kitchen.

"You're too predictable, Mustang," came the familiar hard voice from the entrance of the apartment.

Roy's eyes snapped towards the man and he backed behind the counter, his gloved hand rising in defense. The man eyed it warily and raised his hands in front of him in a nonthreatening gesture. In his arm, Hayate growled softly.

"I'm not going to fight you, Mustang. I've just come to talk to you—"

"Where is she?" Roy cut in, his obsidian gaze hardening.

The man's expressionless features shifted into a sarcastic smile.

"Nothing get's passed you, does it?" he muttered, dropping his hand at his sides before he began to slowly pace the room. His cold, calculated eyes swept across the apartment in disgust.

"Wow… They sure did a number on this place, hmm? Too bad it had to come down to a shootout."

Mustang felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter, and his jaw tightened in frustration.

The man stopped when he passed by the overturned kitchen table, shaking his head in a faux disappointed manner.

"So tell me," he started, looking up at Mustang, who had since lowered his hand, "How much did you tell your little henchmen about what's going on during that phone call?"

"Why should I tell you that?" Roy snapped.

The man chuckled quietly and crossed his arms, nonchalantly rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Because it would be in your best interest if you didn't tell them anything. In fact, it would probably be in Ms. Hawkeye's best interest, as well. As it were, our situation is already last minute. Sharing knowledge with your war-buddies will just prove to make things more complicated."

Roy looked down at Hayate before slowly lowering the dog to the ground. His hard stare found the man standing several feet before him, his features imperturbable despite his thoughts.

They had Riza. The blood could just as well be hers as it could be someone else's, even if she did have her pistol… And even if he did manage to fight off the joker standing in front of him and his backup, he had no idea where Riza was. And he was sure that whoever was behind this would know if he were to report it, and by then… it could be too late for Riza and her secret.

"So," the man started, pulling Roy out of his thoughts, "how much to your buddies know?"

Roy's jaw tensed and he drew a sigh. He would have to play his game.

"They don't know anything. I just told them to come here to pick up the dog. He's hurt."

The man's gaze dropped to the small black and white dog that was peering angrily around the corner of the L-shaped kitchen counter. The eye contact with Hayate made the pup snarl quietly, and the man frowned.

"That's too bad. Things like that tend to happen in a struggle… Well, we don't want them seeing this mess and getting too many ideas, now do we? I'll have one of my men stay behind with the dog until they show up. I'll have him say you told him to wait there for them with the dog because you had to leave do to some… campaign stuff."

Mustang's dark gaze dangerously flashed at the mention of the campaign, and he silently screamed as the day's events—Pierce's lack of contact, the gang escort, and Riza's violently trashed apartment—bridged into one clear answer. It was Hakuro… and his misplaced vendetta.

At Mustang's lack of a swift response, the man placed his right hand earnestly over his heart.

"You have my word, General Mustang. And I don't break my word."

Roy was quiet for a few moments, his gaze shifting between the dog, the man, and the apartment. And then…

"Fine," Roy muttered, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind. Eyeing the man defensively, he searched the apartment a few moments for Hayate's leash. After a minute or so, he found it beneath the tossed coats by the closet and attached it to the dog's collar.

His sympathy for the limping dog lead him to carrying him down the steps before he turned the leash over to a young man with white-blond hair who looked about twenty. Mustang cast a threatening scowl towards the man who lowered himself onto the apartment steps to accompany Hayate.

That task accomplished, the man lead Mustang into a nearby, unmarked car with two escorts. As the brown automobile started up and rolled down the cobblestone street, Roy could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a black military-issued car turning the corner into the parking lot of Hawkeye's apartment.

* * *

**There you go. Reviews would be appreciated. Until next time.**

-Bryan


	18. Passing Over

**AN: Thanks for all of the reviews. Just wanted to clear some things up from chapter seventeen.**

**1) I apologize for all of the name confusion with the John Pierce/Carson guy. He's the same person, but Roy knows him as John Pierce and everyone in the military knows him as his undercover name, Carson. **

**2) The man who visits Roy in his office and follows Roy to Riza's apartment is the same guy…and is NOT Hakuro. It's actually one of the two main henchmen that work for Hakuro. When Roy acknowledged that it was Hakuro, he was accepting that Hakuro was behind all of what was going on. I've decided to name him Jackson.**

**Hope that clears things up. Also, sorry for any typos. It's super early in the morning and I've gotten no sleep trying to finish this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Back to The East**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Passing Over**

The cigarette held carelessly in Havoc's mouth nearly fell as the brown leather leash was thrust into his hands. His confused gaze met those of the bleach-blonde man in front of him. His hand tightened around the leash and he followed the line to the limping black and white pup eyeing him excitedly.

"And…you're sure this is why the General called?"

The man before him nodded innocently before starting, "Yeah, I'm one of his neighbors and he mentioned that he needed someone to take care of the dog. He mentioned something about important campaign business…"

Havoc's brow furrowed and his lips tightened around his cigarette. He reached into his uniform pocket and withdrew a zippo lighter. The metal clicked when he snapped it open and raised it to the white and tan stick. He drew in short puffs, drawing the flame into the tobacco to catch fire before sucking in a long drag. He pocketed the silver starter and turned his gaze back towards Breda, Falman and Fuery, all of who was awkwardly standing around the black military car.

He looked back and gave a sigh.

"Any idea when Mustang will be back?" he asked, a single brow rising curiously.

The strange young man shrugged lightly, casting a nervous glance towards the other side of the strong.

"No, he was in a hurry… He just handed me the leash and the dog and took off. Sorry, I can't offer too much more information. See you gentlemen," he muttered, turning to head back into the door of the apartment.

The man cast one nervous glance behind his shoulder at the group of men, before hurrying inside and up the stairs.

Jean turned and strode towards the car, his gaze dropping towards the limping dog. He frowned and stooped down to gather Hayate into his arms.

"All right, boys… Let's head back," Havoc muttered, handing the black and white bundle to Fuery.

"Havoc, maybe we should stick around. That guy—"

"Falman," Havoc interrupted, "Let's _go_!"

Falman cast a nervous glance at Breda and Fuery before they all followed Jean into the black car. Without word, Havoc started the car and took off around the block and down the street. The car shook slightly at the bumps in the cobblestone street.

"Okay, look," Havoc started, drawing in another puff of his cigarette, "Mustang didn't call for us to babysit Hayate. He sounded frantic, like something was legitimately wrong."

"That kid said he lived in the apartment and was the General's neighbor… But Mustang doesn't live here. This is Hawkeye's apartment complex, isn't it?" Falman chimed in.

"That's right! And I don't think that the Captain would just up and abandon Hayate… He never leaves her side. What do you think is going on?"

The car fell silent for a few moments… And then Havoc randomly served to the left on an abandoned back road.

"Havoc, what the hell?" Breda snapped, as he and the rest of the crew held onto the seats for their lives.

"Let's circle around the building and see if that kid comes back out. If the coast is clear, we should meet up with the landlord and figure out which apartment is Hawkeye's."

"Okay, but we should really consider getting Hayate to the vet… His leg looks swollen and there's seriously something wrong with it," Fuery added, and it was agreed.

The car slowed to a stop just at the corner of the road that Hawkeye's apartment complex was on. Down the street, several cars were parked off to the side. Pedestrians passed idly by at their own pace. The gang settled back in the car, expecting for a long wait. They had had their fair shares of spying or waiting in the past.

Nearly half and hour had passed before something worth noticing arose. The first man to exit was carrying a bag that was packed to the top. He was nervously shifting and glancing around as he made his way to the sidewalk. Two men followed, one of which was the young man that had passed Hayate onto Havoc.

The trio waited for a few minutes before Falman spotted a brown car nearing the corner. In unison, the group of men ducked low in the car, waiting for the sound of the other car's motor to wander past them before they felt safe enough to sit up.

They were met with the sight of the three men entering the car, all of whom still seemed very aware of their surroundings. Havoc turned to cast the other men in the car a curious glance.

"Should we follow, or check out the apartment?"

They were quiet… And then Falman started.

"Maybe we should follow them."

"Yeah, but what if the General or Hawkeye is in the apartment and they're injured?" said Breda, leaning forward anxiously.

"Or, we could be over reacting and those guys in the cars have nothing to do with why the General sounded frustrated on the phone."

"Or, we should make a decision before they get away!" Havoc snapped, his cigarette twitching violently, his eyes following the disappearing brown car.

"Let's just check out the apartment," Falman chimed, leaning back in his seat.

Havoc started the car and pulled up closer to the apartment. Hayate was left in the car with the window rolled down, and the gang made their way inside the apartment. After a few minutes of searching for the landlord and a few questions, they learned where Riza's apartment was and headed up the stairs.

Nothing seemed suspicious as they rounded the stairs and headed down the hallway flanked by a banister.

Then, however, as they approached room 13, they noted the several dents in the door and wall.

"That's odd," Fuery commented as stepped forward and peered closely at the door.

"What's odd about it?" Breda inquired, glancing towards the end of the hallway.

"These are…holes, but they're freshly filled with spackle," Fuery said, pressing his hands against the moist filler.

"This handle was just replaced," Breda commented, pointing at the bronze handle, then at another door with a silver handle.

Havoc looked around before grasping the handle and turning. It didn't budge. He sighed.

"Well, I would say that this search turned out to be nothing… But let's face it. I don't _not_ know how to pick lock a door for nothing!"

With deft movements, Havoc withdrew a slender, metal object from his pocket and placed it into the lock. A few twists and prods, and the lock's resistance melted. The knob turned easily and the men gathered forward as it slid open.

The apartment looked normal enough. The furniture seemed average, which they realized as they entered the room. As they began to explore, however, they noted several bullet marks on the top of the kitchen table and dents on the floor that looked as if something heavy had landed near the kitchen table.

Havoc was the first to speak.

"I think something happened here."

Falman stooped by the table, his gaze set sternly on the floor. Then, quite suddenly, he sniffed.

"Does anyone else smell… cleaning product?"

The men all traveled to where Falman was and stooped, sniffing hard. They all agreed that is smelled like cleaning product.

Fuery moved away from the group and moved towards the kitchen, peering out of the window above the sink. He gave a sigh and turned…and something caught his attention.

"Guys… come take a look at this," Fuery said quietly.

In unison, Havoc, Falman and Breda filed into the kitchen and peered around the counter. Their gazes met with a look of horror and confusion.

Breda was the first one to speak.

"We should drop Hayate off at the vet…and tell someone we can trust about this."

Embedded in the wooden cabinets was a large bullet hole with dried blood smeared around the edges.

* * *

Everything was light and dark simultaneously. She felt as if she was drifting back and forth, like a shell rolling with the tide on sandy beaches. Was she here, or there, or neither? She didn't know… she couldn't think. There was just the dull ebb of her life, the comforting rise and fall of breath, and the strange feeling of…_fullness _inside of her.

Voices whispered around her, giving shapes and color in the dark and light world. She wasn't sure what to think of them—should she be scared, or comforted? She _felt_, and it was a mix of tingling and numbness, filling her entire body and flowing in an endless pattern.

She tried her best to pull her thoughts together that had led her to this moment. She felt as if she had lost her sense of comprehension, like she was trying to speak a language that she had no idea how to speak. She couldn't… She didn't know _how_. She had to let go and go further back.

The shapes flowed into creamy horizontal lines, curving… They shot out into nothing, giving depth to her vision. The darkness faded, transforming into blinding light that stretched upwards. She felt a warm breeze flutter past her, and tasted the dryness of the desert and the salt of her sweat.

She was lying on bleached wooden floors, curled up against a .308 caliber sniper rifle that was perched on top of a rickety bell tower. Her gaze swept over the smoldering, demolished city nearly 100 meters ahead of her, and past that, out across the desert to the dancing dunes. She knew this place, knew this moment when _he_ had set the city ablaze. This was Ishbal.

She looked down at the lone figure standing at the edge of the city, unable to make out whom it was. Slowly, she leaned forward against the rifle, as if it were an extension of her body, and peered into the glass cylinder.

It was _him_, in all of his beautiful and terrible glory. _Roy_, divided in hue, torn between good and evil. Covered in a pallid cloak that was stained by fire and death, with white hands trained to perfection with _good_ and _honest _intentions. Driven by fear and false justification, he could not stay his hand despite his conscience for knowledge of consequence. Those _beautiful_ gloved hands that God had blessed to deliver the Devil's likeness were the only thing that belonged to them anymore, for his mind and soul had returned to him at the horror of their pretentious commands. He was…untamed.

He turned around quite suddenly, his dark and passionate gaze rising to where she was. He knew that she was always watching. And her eyes met his and she stared at the dark window—humble, merciful, remorseful, _burning_—despite their shadow and anger. He was crying out in utter silence, wishing for _someone _to witness his repentance.

She loved him for that, and she choked at the searing pain in her chest and her throat. He was everything to her, that strange _fullness _that she felt within her. His pain destroyed her, strengthened her. She wanted to protect him, to fight by his side. She _loved_ him. He was hers…and she his. Words were not needed to comprehend that.

The light that had filled what vision she had begun to fade. She traced his eyes, wishing to memorize his piercing gaze, but light behind her began to shine, brighter and purer, engulfing everything she saw. She rose and turned, transfixed by the beauty of the light. She started towards it, slow and hesitant.

The feeling of the strange _fullness_ slowly began to move away from her, towards the light. A sense of safety, comfort, and _truth_, was growing from the radiance, coaxing her towards it. But she was leaving him behind.

She stopped, her eyes filled with tears at the splendor of the light before her. The fullness was leaving her, passing into the glow. She felt her body's struggle to move towards it, but something _inside_ her refused.

"I can't leave him."

She couldn't tell if she had spoken that aloud. She tore her eyes from the light and turned, peering back into the darkness.

"I'm sorry… But I can't."

As she thought this, the light began to fade, retreating into nothing. A tearing pain started inside her, and she dropped to her knees. She felt as if something were ripping, being drawn out. She turned towards the light as it faded, silent as tears bled down her cheeks. The _fullness_ had disappeared…

"_Hawkeye…"_

Another rip tore through her body, and she tensed in pain. A dissonance of sound started—hands clapping together, shoes sliding against the floor, an IV bag dripping, heavy, uneasy breathing—and she felt another tear. Her lungs were _burning_.

Her lips parted and she took a sharp gasp of air, and the burning inside her chest faded. She opened her eyes, blinded by the bright light above her. A masked face peered down from above.

"Miss Hawkeye? I'm Dr. Stone, the head Life Alchemist at Central Hospital. You're going to be okay. We've fixed you up, but you've lost _a lot_ of blood. I just need you to relax, and we're going to take care of you, okay?"

She closed hers eyes, her brows knitting tightly together in a frown. She was spinning. She felt tears well up behind her closed eyes.

They didn't need to tell her that the child hadn't made it. She already knew.

* * *

Hakuro set his newspaper down at the sound of the knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, his gruff voice booming.

Johnston entered, his gray and blue suit as prim and proper as ever. His green eyes were shrouded with concern and anxiety. Quietly, he shut the door to Hakuro's office and strode over to one of the comfortable chairs before the General's desk.

"Good afternoon, Johnston," Hakuro noted, leaning forward on his desk, his fingers lacing slowly together. He gave a coy smirk, a gray eyebrow rising slightly.

"So… what news do you have for me?"

Johnston didn't smile back. Blatantly, he leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other.

"Early this morning, Hawkeye was taken captive after a shootout at her apartment. The men made _sure_that the neighbors who heard didn't talk, which wasn't that many, considering most of them were at work. She wounded three men, while she was shot in the abdomen. The men informed me that after she was shot, she attempted to escape and took a tumble down the apartment staircase. I ordered her to be taken to the emergency hospital. The doctors and nurses were paid a nominal fee to keep this covered up."

Hakuro listened in shock. What a mess… A shootout and a trip to the emergency hospital? He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his cold gaze settling on the family portrait in his office.

It wasn't like Mustang _didn't _deserve it, though.

"And what about Mustang?" Hakuro questioned, his gaze hard.

Johnston's eyes dropped to Hakuro's desk. He didn't answer right away. After a few moments of silence, he sighed and spoke.

"Mustang…didn't cooperate. In fact, he escaped through his office window. Thanks to all of the information Jackson filled Mustang in on, it was pretty obvious the General was headed to Hawkeye's. They met him there, so unfortunately…he saw all of the damage. You're going to have to do some _damn_ good convincing to get him to forfeit."

Hakuro leaned back in his large office chair, sighing in disappointment. This would have been easier if he hadn't have seen anything… But, perhaps the damage Mustang saw could be turned in his favor.

"Jackson talked him into agreeing. He told him that if he cooperated, Hawkeye would stay safe. He agreed, and Mustang was taken to the designated warehouse. He's being held there right now… I suggest speak to him soon, if you're going to make the debate in a fashionable and unsuspicious manner tomorrow."

His hands found the edge of his desk and his pushed himself backwards. With a quiet grunt, he rose to his feet, nodding to Johnston.

"All right then, let's go visit the man."

* * *

The late summer air hung hot and heavy, and his damp oxford clung to his skin. He wasn't exactly sure what warehouse he was in, but it was sweltering due to the lack of air conditioning. Roy leaned forward and pressed his head against the steel bars surrounding him. It was cool to the touch and he sighed quietly. He closed his eyes.

They refused to tell him where Riza was, or better yet, _how_ she was. He had been escorted through the city blindfolded, and was led into a steel cell in one of the many rooms within the warehouse. It was dark and gloomy, but the light shining in through the barred window above him was enough to let him see his surroundings.

Judging by the voices outside, there were several men within the warehouse. What they were doing, he wasn't sure. The quiet hum of masculine chatter had been going on for some time—he had grown to barely notice it. But then, quite suddenly, it faded.

Roy's gaze snapped to the room's entrance, concentrating on the thin band of light beneath the door. He rose to his feet and cast an anxious glance towards the window. There was hardly any light left in the sky. What the hell was going on? When was he going to be let out?

Roy looked up, frowning hard. His ears strained, and he listened closely. The chatter had come to a halt, and there was silence. Then, faintly, the sound of footsteps, growing closer and closer.

The footsteps stopped when a dark figure moved into the crack of light. Slowly, he lowered onto the single chair within the cell. The sound of the handle turning was faint, but a moment later, the door slid open and a light flickered on.

He said nothing as the familiar, clean-shaven, brunette man entered. He knew who he was, but he wasn't aware of his name. Followed closely was the man who had brought him here, and behind him was Hakuro.

His fists clenched at the sight of Hakuro's smirk, but he knew he needed to keep his composure. The thought of Riza, injured—or perhaps worse—was omnipresent within his mind. He took in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His lips twitched into a fake smile.

"Gentlemen, how nice of you to join me in my office. What can I do for you?"

Hakuro and Jackson exchanged irritated glances and Johnston's hands found his pockets. With a slow chuckle, Hakuro started towards the edge of the cell, sneering coldly at Roy.

"Always the clever one, weren't you, Mustang? Well I've had enough of your jokes!"

Roy's brow rose in false-surprise, humoring the gray-haired general.

"Please, go on," he muttered, nodding slowly with a serious expression of concentration sliding over Roy's features.

"You think that you can waltz across Amestris and change the whole country's mind about everything you've done? All of the lives you took in Ishbal? Your plot against military policies and its leaders?"

Hakuro's sneer had transformed into a furious grimace. His voice had risen, and spittle was flying from his mouth. One of his hands had found one of the bars of Roy's cell with a death grip. Despite all of this, Roy remained calmly in his seat, arms crossed.

"No amount of promotions can atone for every man, woman and child that you've killed… Don't think that I'm going to stand around and let you brainwash the Amestrians into believing that your leadership is in this country's best interest!"

He was speaking fast now, his cold, blue eyes swirling in a crazed frenzy. He leaned forward against the bars, his voice lowered to barely above a whisper.

"No one would suspect the man who murdered my family in cold blood to be the _Amestrian hero_… And of course no one would believe that the _Fuhrer_ of Amestris would do such a thing. But I know it was you, Mustang!"

Roy rose to his feet in an instant and crossed the distance between himself and Hakuro a moment later. His gaze narrowed, his dark eyes hardening. The pace of his blood quickened and his hand snapped forward, enclosing tightly around Hakuro's collar.

"Listen to me, you sick _fuck_! I know what I did in Ishbal. I've made it through the past decade of my life by promising myself that I was going to do something that would change this country. Just because you had a desk job during the war and didn't agree with what I was doing does _not_give you the right to judge me!"

Hakuro's gaze widened and he attempted to pull away from Roy's grip. His hand groped desperately at Roy's fist, but it wouldn't budge. Instead, he was only drawn closer against the cell, forced to stare into Roy's burning, piercing gaze.

"I didn't kill your family, Hakuro. I don't know who did. And even though you're the only thing standing between me and my dream… I feel sorry for you."

His grip loosened and Hakuro stumbled back. Roy's hands found the bars of the cell, and his eyes rose to sweep over Jackson and Johnston, before traveling back to Hakuro.

"This is ridiculous. We're all men, here. There's no need for negotiating. Just let me go and we can forget about all of this."

Hakuro stared at Roy for a few moments in silence. Mustang met his gaze without hesitance. Hakuro's thoughts were running so fast… It couldn't be true. Mustang hated him, even though he was innocently blindsided into helping the Fuhrer. He was out to get him—he wanted him to crack—so he killed his family, thinking he would have nothing… Hakuro's lip trembled, and he turned to Jackson, who was staring with an unconvinced sneer. Johnston seemed anxious.

The gray-haired man turned his distant gaze onto Roy once more. He seemed to shake slightly as he spoke.

"I knew that you were going to say that, Mustang. I knew that you would deny everything! But I am merciful, so I am going to give you a choice… even though you never gave me one."

He leaned forward towards the cell, his face twitching in resentment, his eyes shifting to and fro like a madman's.

"We have your precious Hawkeye… and we know she's pregnant with _your_ child. So you choose, Roy. You can choose your career, and walk out of here tomorrow morning and prepare for that big debate, and, _oh_, let's not forget that I'll have my men kill your child and Riza."

Roy was taken aback by Hakuro's statement. His grip on the cell bars loosened as his stomach knotted. He felt as if he was spinning…nauseous. His jaw tightened at Hakuro's smirk, which was slowly crossing his face.

"Or, you can call your manager and let him know that you're pulling out of the campaign, and give up your dream career. Riza will be turned over to you safely, and you'll keep quiet while I take over as Fuhrer."

Hakuro stepped away from the cell and turned his back. One glance towards Johnston and Jackson and they were following him to the door. When his hand grasped the handle, he turned to cast once last final glance to Roy.

"It's your choice, Mustang. I just hope you make the right one… You have until morning to decide. Have a _great_ night."

The lights overhead shut off with a click, and the three men filed out into the hallway and closed the door, leaving Roy with only a few hours and a life changing decision to make.

* * *

**This chapter was originally meant to be a lot longer, but... I was informed that a lot of you guys probably wouldn't care to read it. So yeah. Hope you're enjoying, and please don't hesitate to review. Until next time, which will hopefully be soon.**

**-Bryan**


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